


Winners Among the Losing

by EyesOfDolls



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Family Drama, Inhuman Characteristics, Inhuman characters, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor character suicide, Past Family Death, Roceit - Freeform, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and abelism in general, and there was more then one bed yet here they are sharing one bed, asshole magic mentor, brief mentions dissociating, casual use of teleporting, casual use of time travel, cursing, deceit being angry at everything, demigods and sleeping godesses, i am not an expert on either but it Is A Thing, i am so sorry for not tagging this before but roman's internalized abelism, implied to mild sexual content, logan's a middle child and it shows, magic!!!puberty!!!, me not helping roman's trust issues with maternal figures for 30 chapters straight, multiple mentions of blood/injuries, oh OH yeah i forgot implied attempted murder, probably emotional abuse, time is fake and irrelevant, toxic relationship between remy and emile, transformation based magic, unhealthy life advice, why?because i refuse to write a story where roman isn't clingy alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 66,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyesOfDolls/pseuds/EyesOfDolls
Summary: Eden, Deceit--whatever you wanted to call him--was the lowest of the low. A monster, hardly human-- set to be executed without trial.  Roman was the closest thing to a god in this world and he was on trial as well, stuck perpetually in time until he atoned for his family's' alleged sins.Neither cared much for staying trapped so when A Stranger offered freedom, peace, power, it was hard to say no. Even if it put the two of them on the wrong side of history, everything would be better this way.Wouldn't it?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 28
Kudos: 51





	1. The Last Game

"Punishment, " the air sang that night. 

Even beyond the dingy bars of the small window, Eden could see the torches swing. The familiar cloth of the villagers--of his family--not too far behind. The cell itself, while bare, was packed with dirt. The shadows moving and scuttling alive with the humidity of the night. 

The guard didn’t see him as much of a threat though. She’d left earlier to flirt with the baker’s daughter, careless, but it wasn't like he could do much now anyway. Hot metal pressed tight around his wrists and his mouth was bound with an unwashed rag. 

His skin was slick an uncomfortable heat lingering around his form. His church clothes were shredded at the sleeves, the leather of his shoes split and peeling. 

A quiet breeze blew through the stale night air and Eden eye throbbed. He looked up, seeing the same Stranger from earlier. 

Said Stranger, seemed content. He leaned against the bolted door licking his ice-cream. His clothes were elaborately tucked and sewn, the white blouse and black slacks almost unnatural among the cell’s greys. The Stranger didn’t bother to tilt his sunglasses to reveal the pale blue eye that got Eden into this mess.

Instead, the Stranger licked his lips, ice-cream disappearing, “That was quite a show, little man.” he twirled a pair of bronze keys, which flickered before appearing in his other hand, “I was almost impressed.”

Hot rage pooled in Eden's stomach as he glowered at the man. 

“What was that, hon?” The Stranger tilted his head, amused. He raised a hand to his glasses before he simply snapped. Eden's gag fluttered uselessly to the ground.

Eden spat at the Stranger's shoes. 

“I know that I’m new around here, hon, but,” The Stranger tilted his head, watching Eden desperately thrash as the sick smell of burning of flesh filling the cell, “You should know how to use your manners.”

“Fuck off," Eden heaved. 

“Perhaps but...that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” The Stranger said, “Afterall you went through all that trouble, your...friend? Went through all that trouble.” 

“So what, you lied?” Eden said, defeated, “I lied…” 

The Stranger scoffed, “He lied, you lied, we all lied,” he walked towards Eden, smiling sweetly, “You,” he jabbed a finger at Eden's chest, “Just came out on top.”

Removing his offending finger, Eden clattered to the ground. The Stranger loomed over him, a halo of moonlight around his hair, hand outreached. 

Eden could've slapped it away, could've screamed, could've sworn, could've cried, but for what? For who?

So….

Eden took the Stranger’s hand. 

\----

“First lesson!” The Stranger called out slumped in his hammock, slacks, and blouse replaced with a dress dotted with pink flowers, “Find me a name, make it cute.” 

Crouched over a nearby stream soaking his shirt, Eden didn’t bother to look up, “Asshat, rejected tooth-fairy, blue eyes white fuck-” he sputtered, falling into the stream as if pushed. 

The Stranger stood over him, arms folded, “Those names are not cute.” 

Eden flicked wet hair from his face, “Neither is being strung up like meat,” he grunted, throat tight, “--and being hated by everyone you’ll ever possibly know.” 

The Stranger snorted, “That can’t possibly be the worst thing that’s happened.” 

Eden's face was pained and he adverted his eyes, “...It wasn’t.”

“I know, ” the Stranger said, tapping his jaw consideringly, “Change of plans, tiny man.”

“Pardon me-”

“You’re pardoned,” The Stranger traced the strap of their dress, morphing it into a regular pair of slacks and shirt, “Get dressed, we're going into town for your real first lesson.” his lips pursed, “And... cover-up that eye situation as well, hon, no need for that getting out of hand again.” 

Automatically Eden's hand flew to his eye. He traced the bumps peeking from his otherwise unblemished flesh, before willing the scales away with the impeccable ease that landed him here in the first place. 

(bulging eyes, one blue, one blind, veins like ice, a pool of saliva gathered around their head. one lost the game, one broke a promise.)

Eden's eyes fluttered open, hands thumbing at the outline of the small corked bottle inside their pockets. Not a drop inside. 

He took it out, the glass burning at his touch. He gripped the bottle tighter, biting his lip as it’s remaining energy seared his skin leaving a trail of pink in his palm. Swallowing, he pocketed the empty bottle, feet heavy as he left to catch up with the Stranger. 

\---

Eden huffed, emerging from a local shop, slamming the door behind him. He felt people's eyes zero on him. He covered his bruised cheek. 

“Oh, my-” The Stranger snorted, drink spraying, “What did you do-” He sat at a cafe nearby, not bothering to move. 

“It’s not funny,” Eden said, yanking back a chair to sit down as well. A couple in a nearby table shuffled back inside, eyeing him warily. 

“-It’s very funny,” the Stranger said, “Lemme guess, lemme guess you called him a lazy cow?” 

“You knew he was a lazy cow.” 

“I know a lot of things 'bout the old man, sweet cheeks,” the Stranger stirred sugar into their drink, “I guess I overestimated you.”

Eden inhaled, “I am capable. I’ve already proved this-” His words died as the Stranger's glasses titled down, a singular pale blue eye steadied on him. 

“I know. I know who you are better than you know yourself, ” the Stranger said with a lazy drawl, “Remember this opportunity is nothing but that, an opportunity,” He traced the edge of his glass, “Not a promise, not a guarantee, ‘kay?” He pushed up his frames, “So you might want to use this opportunity, properly. Pause your little grief session and try to get the information, okay?”

Eden's anger festered in waves, but he quieted it for now. “How so?”

“Girl, get creative. Get a bit nicer. More...sympathetic,” He hummed, “And surprise, surprise, don’t insult the informant-that-that’s a big one.” 

“Fine,” Eden said, forcing himself back to the damn shop. With a few deep breaths and the knowledge, he plastered a smile on his face, pushing open the wooden door. 

On cue, the bell jingled as the door clicked behind him. The shop was small but sizable. Herbs and flowers bottled in jars, some hanging from the ceiling stretching towards the dim light the windows provided. Those few slivers of light clearly showing how dust covered the walls, jars, and plants. 

Eden internally gagged, maneuvering around the clutter to the back of the shop where the counter sat. Scattered across the counter were a few momentous. A vile of herbs and some growing plants, some photos of dusty faces, flowers tucked beside them almost like an afterthought He waited patiently for the man to remove his nose from the week-old newspaper. 

“Oh,” The man shuffled the paper, “Is pretty boy here to apologize?”

“No-” Eden abruptly shut his mouth, hands flying to the back of his head wincing. Looking back the Stranger waved, before twiddling a dried rose between his fingers and disappearing. 

“Look,” Eden tried again, “I’m...sorry... about earlier, it’s just,” He glanced at the pictures again, “Listen, I’m new in town and...and I got news my brother passed away.” 

The man shoulders stiffened behind the papers and Eden knew he'd gotten their attention, “I guess I lashed out when I shouldn’t have. You’re just trying to enjoy your day… and I got impatient. ” 

The man folded his newspaper, softly setting it down. His eyes hidden behind darkened frames, wrinkles heavily lining his face and lips pursed, contemplating. 

“Well…” the man sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry too, man. What brings you to town?” 

A foul taste clung to Eden's throat, but he continued,” Well, my brother,” he forced a laugh, ignoring the sharp pain the vile brought in his pockets, “He was always a fan of reading. Romances, ghost stories, ” he dug his nails into his palms, “One of his favorite books was about this town and he always talked about wanting to visit…” 

The man smiled, hands brushing across a picture, “My ...kid was a reader too,” He laughed, “ Never could drag them outta the house unless it was for a bookstore, always was a shy thing,” He frowned, “...What exactly was this book about?”

“Oh it’s about a cursed family...the Sanders Manor, do you know it?”

A light breeze brushed through the shop as the man sat contemplating, “Huh,” the old man blinked, “You know it's strange. You aren’t the first one to come asking that question,” 

“It's a popular book,” Eden shrugged, forcing himself not to fill the lingering silence. 

“That’s one way to describe him,” The old man muttered.


	2. The First Son

It was a question in itself why the Stranger couldn’t find the manor himself. 

A little way outside of town sat the first signs of the sprawling estate. Cobbled streets became ancient, cracks interwoven with unkempt weeds littered the road to its gates. The gates stretched up, challenging the sky, it's metal bars elaborately carved with the handwork of both artisans and nature. 

Brushing off the debris from a plaque, Eden frowned, “What type of curse was it again?”

The Stranger perched on the gate above him, “You like a challenge don’t you?”

Eden frowned, dusting his hand off on a handkerchief, “Care to elaborate-” Eden whipped his head up, nothing but a breeze in his ear to warn him that the Stranger was gone. 

He cursed under his breath hand automatically reaching for his pocket, finding two vials. 

One empty, One not.

He pocketed the former, holding the latter up towards the dimming light. The clear liquid sloshed innocently within the container, the glass itself cool to the touch. Tucking it away, he rubbed his eye, wiling away the scales. 

He shook the gate, the metal rattling stubbornly, “Of course, why ask, it was such a ridiculous question” he frowned, hand testing the bars once again, “Be nicer, be fucking sympathetic, the convoluted ass had the nerve-” he muttered, wedging his foot between the bars, one hand fluttering uselessly as he pulled himself up, “Of course I’m not going to explain anything to you, I’m all-powerful blue eye, who can’t even start a damn fire without the universe's blessing,” 

With a heave, he lifted himself over the gate, dropping on the other side. 

Tension rolled off of him as he dusted his hands with a critical eye. Scars littered his skin, with the proof of his efforts angrily painting the sides of his hands red. 

It was easy enough to fix, scales slipping from the flesh like yellow tendrils before dipping out of existence. The thin pink and white scars being replaced with a smooth expanse of warm tan. 

He stretched his hand approvingly before cautiously strolling through the overgrown lawn--stepping over sprawling piles of thorns and scattered grasses. 

Among the greenery, he occasionally had to dodge statues. Each statue seemingly was interwoven with every facet of the estate. Painstakingly present at every corner. 

Seeing as the entrance-- double doors of thick oak-- were caved in with jagged masses of stone, Eden poked around the rubble instead. He paused, eyeing a caved-in section of the wall. 

Kneeling, he slotted his fingers between the boards, “If I could just-- there,” he said, prying the boards apart, dust falling in a thick cloud. Blind, he fumbled through the musty crevice.

After what felt like decades he finally found an end to the rabbit hole. 

The temperature dropped, his skin prickling. Poking his head through, he shook the cobwebs from his clothes, pushing himself out of the floorboard. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected of a cursed manor. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know what a manor is supposed to look like. 

Moonlight streamed past the tattered curtains, the air still- frozen. 

Elaborate busts, statues, portraits, marble floors, all seemed to be lost in time. Painted faces looking dead-eyed at the state of the manor with disdain. 

Shadows seemed less alive with the unknown, yet they blended seamlessly with the decor; they shaped every downturned tilt of a bust's mouth, hiding the eyes of every starry-eyed painting. 

That isn’t even going into the statues. They littered the halls, all in various stages of undress, in various activities. From the surprised maids, jolting back, heels perched and hands frozen trying to scramble for the unseen, scattered laundry-- to the simple red-faced cry of an infant refusing to rest. 

Eden approached each, eyes scanning the way their heads tilted, the way their skin grayed to the muddy stone on some body parts and yet remained a healthy brown on others. He poked and he prodded the ruffles of the master's shirts, and the flowers weaved in their mistress's hair, their faces remained undisturbed. 

He pressed two fingers to the chest of one Lord-- this face swallowed with a beard and a velvet hat. 

A heartbeat pulsed under his fingertips. 

Eden surmised that if he were to detach a finger, it would become as bruised and bloody as they would if they were still moving.

He stopped touching them after that. 

\---

(One, Two, twins of gold. The First one is first, the second one is no more. One, Three a competition it seems. The first one is second, the Third one is gold.)

\---

The Stranger sipped his latte, enjoying the pleasant sounds of the city in unrest below him. His feet dangled off the side of the building as his interest flew from one side of the city to another, trying to find the best place for his qualifications. 

Perhaps the already insecure wife finds out her husband has been cheating on her and evading taxes for nearly a decade- does she hide the secret, or does she divorce him and finally do herself well? 

Or maybe an already stressed-out couple deals with the pressure of one of their partner’s unexpected fame? 

Then again, there is that toxic waste dump...

He stirred his drink, the depleted liquid refilling again with frothy goodness. 

A flock pigeon suddenly scattered, the relatively sunny, if not smoggy, sky greying. 

The Stranger sipped his drink, closing his eyes, “Emile, I see you’re not dead yet.”

Turning around, the Stranger was pleased to see the same disapproving look from all those years ago still firmly in place. 

Emile was wearing all familiar plain robes, gold vines twisting up and down his arms. A notable contrast to the Stranger's high waisted shorts and crop top depicting questionable activities. 

“You know we can’t die.”

The Stranger hummed, “No, we can’t live.” his laugh hung bitter as he traced the indents of the building’s walls, eyeing the burned up tattered ends of Emile’s robes, “Trouble in the… Roman Empire?” 

Emile thumbed the edges of the robe, changing it into a sweater and khakis, “Byzantine,” he corrected, gaze burning holes in the back of the Stranger’s head. 

“Is there something you need, old man?” The Stranger said. 

“The council… the council has noticed you’ve finally decided to take on an apprentice,” 

“Huh,” the Stranger smiled, “That’s certainly a phrase?”

“Aren’t you teaching him?”

The Stranger snorted, “We both know I’d be the worst,” He tapped his straw clean, watching the froth fall down the building’s side, “I like to call it free-range guidance.” 

“Well, the council calls it an improvement,” Emile said, settling beside him, “After all, it's not every day the universe’s Stranger takes up more responsibility-- and just in time for the yearly offerings? It's unheard of... still...”

“Still?” The Stranger echoed.

“Your choice of student is… questionable.”

“Does the council not believe him worthy?” The Stranger mocked, already imagining the uproar the universes best would have upon discovering what exactly he planned on doing. He almost regrets not showing up for the meetings. 

Almost. 

Paperworks a bitch. 

Still, his words gave Emile pause, “No, that… that is never the case,” Emile choked out the words, knowing the protocol, “Never. Still, the terms of his recruitment are...strange,” he placed a hand on the Stranger’s shoulders, “You haven't had any activity for decades. We’ve missed you.”

“We?” The Stranger’s hand trailed to meet Emile’s. 

“I’ve… I...” Emile retracted his hand, “I and the council have missed you.” 

“Oh,” the Stranger said, “...Tell the council to shove it,” he spat, no longer looking at Emile, “I don’t want my ‘apprentices’ even smelling their dusty asses.” 

“Apprentices? You’re taking on more than one?”

The Stranger stood, balancing on the building’s edge, “Being the universe’s dog gets lonely, after all.” he said, not trusting himself to look back before taking the plunge. 

\---

Eden was sent flying across the courtyard, a bed of overgrown roses being his cushion. 

Curses fell from his mouth easily as he rolled from the bush. His already tattered clothes now bloodied as he rolled to dodge the creature's fangs. 

The creature itself was a mass of stone and vine. No eyes, but the darkness that claimed its place. It screamed something unholy, a garbled sound akin to the crushing of bones as it shook the rose bush free of any thorns and shriveled blooms. 

Seeing its tangles become intertwined with the branches of the brush, Eden scrambled across the marble, sticking to the shadows, trying to find the vial. He needed to find that vial-

The creature bellowed, yanking the bush from its roots before it barreled towards the intruder again. 

Eden dropped flat to the ground, the creature bulldozing over him, only a few stray roots snagging on the remaining pieces of his clothing. 

Ignoring how his cheek stung, Eden, crawled keeping his head low. He needed a change of plans-change of plans- There.

Tucked right between the legs of his target, was the vial, untouched. 

Tension settled in his gut. 

Now that that was settled, all he needed to do was-

The ground shook, the creature managed to turn himself around. Eden stood, forcing his legs to run. He snaked through the courtyard, the howl of the beast at his heels. 

The closed eyes of his target within sight. 

He heard the familiar crunch of the pavement, and Eden dropped to his knees, the beast flying overhead, crashing.

He scrambled up, fumbling to open the vial. ( he heard the beast growl) He stretched on his toes, dosing the eyes of the target, 

Once ( the crunch of the beast's steps grew closer)

Twice ( it pounced again)

The target's eyes fluttered open, a breathtaking silver. Skin washed a healthy brown, freckles spotting his skin, and hair staining red. 

Eden's breath caught and he found himself unable to move. Or rather, he didn’t want to move. He was captivated as he watched the target shudder to life all at once.

It was as if they beckoned the world around him to join, to wait, to watch, to-

“Sleep.” The target commanded. 

The beast of bramble and stone crashed to its knees.


	3. Two Wrongs Can Try

(One, Two, twins of gold. The First one is first, the second one is no more. One, Three a competition it seems. The first one is second, the Third one is gold.)

The world was dimmed, but was no longer mute. His body felt like lead, yet he could breathe so free. He was so free. Even though the wind howled he heard snippets of the unfrozen world around him.

A gasp, a battle, a mistake. It was as the world was being awaken with him, becoming focused yet so far away from reach. Each sliver of humanity making him buzz more. 

Making him want more. 

A hand brushed his cheek, it's touch unbearably warm yet he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. It stroked his cheek in lazy strokes, his mind becoming haze. 

“Must you be so close?” a voice grumbled, accent thick, but relatively well articulated. The hand burned at his cheek, sounds becoming harsh. More shuffling, and hushed murmurs of arguments he couldn’t quite grasp. It couldn’t all be in English. Spanish? If only he were that lucky, it was most likely-

\----

Words died on Eden ’s tongue, hearing the barest sound of movement behind him. Looking forward again, the Stranger was gone, and Eden was set to be the guinea pig yet again. 

Roman was slumped against a large oak, white blouse half buttoned, with various tears and marks from the trip over here. Their chest rising and falling, and face stirring, but his eyes remained shut. 

A sharp pain went through Eden ’s side again. The swelling of the wound still throbbing like a petulant child from underneath his makeshift gauze wrap. He cursed under his breath, already feeling the scales solidify underneath the wrapping and refuse to go away. 

Roman stirred again, face pinching.

Feeling the pain dull, Eden repeated the curses a bit louder again. On cue, Roman’s, eyes twitched with a soft murmur. 

Squatting next to the other and leaning over them, Eden confirmed his suspicions. 

Shallow breath, his body too stiff even if he was in a stone coma for who knows how long. And just like Eden thought, not a single nick, not a single wound. It was as if he had just been born, had only just now existed, while Eden dragged his existence with every hidden, scabbed up lie on his body. 

He should be jealous, angry, all of those emotions that had been in turmoil since this all began bubbling up in one hazy concoction. But he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the soft freckles doting their face and how their auburn hair curled innocently about them. Perhaps it's the way Roman seemed so at peace despite the sheer nature of their abilities. Hearing rumors of it, and seeing it are two very different things. 

And Eden wanted to see it again. 

He wanted it bad. 

Wanted to feel the earth shake and split, wanted to taste a power that seemed so foreign and untouched, yet laid inches away from him, ignored for years. Eden ’s abilities were more discrete,and beyond his understanding, but fuck if he didn’t want the satisfaction of shaping whatever dares listens. 

It was almost filthy, and he was half tempted to whisk the demigod in front of him away just to indulge in that urge consequences be damned. 

But he doesn’t. 

He wakes Roman up, and leads the way without a word. 

\---

The Stranger flipped a page in the book, not looking up, “Back to see me so soon?”

Emile scowled, chainmail glinting in the desert heat, while the Stranger remain unbothered, sitting within the oasis, long scarf wrapped about his head to shield him from the heat. 

The Stranger looked up, a wiry grin spreading across his face, “Now the crusades? You’ve been busy,” Emile’s scowl deepened, not bothering to sit, not bothering to even change his attire despite the biting heat. 

“What? What’s got the council all wound up now?” The Stranger hummed contemplatively, “Oh is it my new apprentice? He’s quite a lovely thing, surprisingly well educated despite records. I know him and Eden will get along quite well, hmm? Eden doesn’t quite know what to make of him.”

Emile continued to stare, the glint behind his glasses the only indication that he was actually present 

The Stranger sipped his drink, “It’s rather… cute, don’t you think,” he purred, “You have students, I have students. It's almost meant to be,” peered over his glasses, “Maybe the universe has blessed us?” 

Emile left without a word. 

\---

Roman despised being ignored. 

The figure hadn’t said much else after he started leading the way through the almost foreign growth of the woods. Though Roman hadn’t technically been here before, he knew something was.... off. 

Something just out of reach, but very much alive. 

Even the figure regarded the wood with caution, never straying from the path of cobbled roots, only stopping to throw the odd stare behind himself, as if to make sure Roman was still there. 

Never speaking, only that look, and the barest of smiles. A polite smile, that seemed more strange on his face then the whisper of the forest itself.

It was stifling, unnatural. 

Roman found himself breaking the silence, “What…” he croaked, voice heavy and unused, “What are we looking for?” 

The figure paused at that, his broad shoulders stiff and upright, “We aren’t looking for anything,” he said, “We are waiting for orders.” 

\---

Finding it was easier then Eden expected, even with the Strangers absurd directions. The… tree was enormous, it's large branches dipping down in tangles sprawling across the clearing. Morning light filtered through dew droplets clinging to its leaves, with red blooms spotting the foliage. 

Roman had quit his fidgeting hours ago, instead fiddling with some branch, much to Eden ’s relief. Eden knelt near the creek trickling beside the great tree, dipping the bloodied rags through and cooling his wounds. He settled beside the running water, letting the tension unwind from his shoulders, and letting the isolated heart of the forest quiet his senses. 

Fingers trailing in the water, he sighed, “Roman, do you need-” He heard the snapping of branches, and scrambled searching for the familiar mass of red. 

“What are you doing,” He hissed. Forget indulgence, this is just stupidity. 

Roman draped across one of the large branches, legs lazily swinging, “Resting,” he said, much less groggy. He flipped over onto his stomach blinking innocently, “Wanna join?”

“As appealing as that is,” he drawled, “You need to get down.” 

They hummed noncommittally, tracing patterns in the bark. 

“Roman.” 

The flowers on the tree slowly bloomed, dripping a haunting red. 

She was waking.

“I quite like you saying my name, do it again.” Roman said, eyes closed.

“Prince Charming, get your ass down here,” Eden sighed, “We don’t have time to do this, here of all places.” he paused consideringly, “Hell, I don’t even know how you managed to get up their seeing as you look like you can barely tie your shoes-- much less climb a damn tree.”

Roman’s face darkened, abruptly sitting up, “I’ll have you know-” The world shook, branch caving . His eyes as wide as saucers as he tumbled. 

Eden shot forward, Roman crashing into him. The two stumbling back as the ground continued to shake ferociously, branches shuddering to earth. Grabbing Roman’s wrist, Eden rolled over him, scales rippling down the expanse of his back at the branches sudden impact

Eden winced, as the scales ripped through his wound. He gritted his teeth, forcing the trail snaking up his throat to stop. Although he couldn’t stop the all familiar slitting of his eyes. He frantically scanned their cramped corners, Roman beneath him. 

“You okay,” He asked breathless. 

Roman’s shoulders shook, his breathing just as erratic, “Of cour- I- of cou-,” The world shuddered again, and he whimpered, curling into Eden ’s chest again. 

Eden ignored how his heart pinched, forcing a laugh, “Not so tough now, are you?”

“Oh-- shut-- up,” Roman said between breath, “I wouldn’t have even bothered if you had simply told me what was going on. Like, you bother to sweep me off my feet, and I don’t even get your name or where we’re even going? That’s a lack of proper etiquette on your part.” 

Eden snorted, shoulders relaxing as the trembles quieted, “Eavesdropping isn’t proper etiquette either, if I remember correctly.” 

“Curiosity is a beautiful trait,” Roman’s lips thinned.

“On you perhaps,” Eden mused, loosening his grip on Roman’s wrist, shuffling their legs in a more comfortable position, “When us commoners are nosy, all we get is bony grandmothers nipping our toes.” 

“Tragic,” Roman said, flexing his fingers experimentally. He frowned.

“Can’t you will the branches away?” Even if she technically wasn’t a tree, she was a part of the earth the same. A quiet giant, who made this forest her home. 

“Yes—I think,” Roman mumbled, face clouded, “it's just--” He huffed, “Loud” 

“Loud?” Eden frowned as well, other then the occasional crash the forest was still relatively muted. 

“Maybe loud isn’t the right word,” Roman said, “It’s a lot-- I didn’t even know she was there-- she’s so old---this forest is old and probably hasn’t had contact with a Sanders in centuries, She’s-- she’s panicking and won’t listen.” 

Eden eyed as they twisted and untwisted their hands, “Are you sure it’s the forest?” 

Roman opened and closed his mouth, face pained, before he asked, “Yes? No-- Why-- why are you so calm about this?” 

“Because as much as a dumbass you are,” Eden met Romans offended gasp, with a pointed look, “He still chose you. Plus as much as an dick the Stranger is, he won’t let us die yet...”

“So?” Roman echoed. 

“We’re both his apprentice, so we’re partners aren’t we?” He ducked down, his hair a dark curtain, his shadowed face barely concealing the stark green of his eye. Beneath him, Roman stiffened, breathes more shallow than before, cautiously looking Eden over for real this time.

Eden chuckled, brushing the hair from Romans eyes, “You need to calm down.” he said, quieter. He searched for the same control that brought the stone beast down before him. 

“That’s easier said than done,” Roman managed a scowl, but still looked pained. 

“Then let me make it easy?” Eden suggested mildly, “What do the elite normally do to relax?” 

“Duels,” Roman said. 

“Yeah, no.’ Eden blanked, “What did you do as a child? Or do children not exist?” 

“Of course they exist,” he huffed, “How else are we to continue her bloodline? We don’t need to sully our abilities with immortality of all things.” 

Eden tucked that information away for later, instead saying, “So all these kids with earth destroying abilities are running around bored? 

“Of course not.”

“So what did the adults do about it?” 

“Well…” Roman’s eyes flickered away, unsure, “Marisol always sang to me, but I doubt you know the song, it’s older then this forest--”

“Then teach it to me.” 

\---

“You seem to be in a good mood.” The Stranger commented between mouthfuls, watching Eden carefully, “Should I be concerned?” 

Eden and them sat in the rubble of the giant’s remains, only a few branches remained, shriveled and blackened. Roman curled at Eden ’s side, sleeping softly as the other two ate. It was an apparent trend that Roman’s abilities sapped his energy just as effectively as Eden ’s did, his slumber as if he was still stone.

Eden stopped humming, “If me enjoying something is all it takes to unnerve you, I would’ve done it months ago.” He sipped his drink, pleasant smile now a challenge more than anything.

The Stranger shuddered, “Stop that, immediately,” he said, “And keep an eye on Sanders,” he said, “He... likes you, and that makes you a hell of a lot less replaceable.” 

“Yeah well,” Eden frowned, “Is there a reason why he isn’t replaceable as well? He’s powerful,” he was conscious of the Stranger’s sharp gaze, “infuriatingly so, but there’s an entire family of them.”

“All of which are either as good as dead,” The stranger crushed a bloom beneath his boot, a scowl set heavy, “--or untouchable.”


	4. A Forest of Fools (and Other Magical Entities)

Logan inspected the soil, the normally moist ground falling brittle, like sand, between his fingertips. Around him, any remaining blooms had turned to dust, and he could feel the forest was mourning. 

A stillness lingered. 

“Can you save it?” Emile said, breaking the silence. 

The frown on Logan’s face deepened, “I’m not quite sure anything can save this,” Catching the pained expression on Dr. Picani’s face, he continued, “But I can bring back samples, and figure out how to stimulate future growth.” 

Emile’s shoulder’s sagged, “Thank blessings,” he smiled, softly, “I knew I could count on you, Logan.”

Logan bit down the surge of childish pride, “Of course,” he managed to choke, putting on gloves and gathering a sample.

Emile had told him the council didn’t quite know what had happened here, a false but protocol statement of course, and that he believed it was most likely poachers. Likely, but highly unlikely since she was completely decimated, damaged goods. It could’ve been something natural, like a localized storm, or another beast staking territory, but…

She had been ripped apart from the inside out. 

He schooled his expression, a bile rising in his throat at the thought. 

Logan stood, tucking the samples into his satchel, “So when were you planning on telling me?” 

“Tell you what?” the easy expression slid off Dr. Picanis face like clockwork, again protocol. 

Logan pushed back his locs, eyebrow raised, “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize my brothers handiwork?” He said, “The only one more brutish than him, is our father and…” He shook his head, “Roman is the only one capable of doing this, ” 

Emile offered his hand, Logan taking it promptly, “I wasn’t worried about you finding about your brother,” he admits, not flinching as a wave of light engulfs them. The two of them reappearing at Emile’s summer home near the alps. 

“Then why the secrecy?”

Emile sighed, glancing back, “It wasn’t a matter of Roman being freed,” he said, tone tight, “It's a matter of who freed him.” 

Logan gave him a curious look, “It isn’t the first time Roman got free,” he said, “Virgil and I can secure him easily--”

“Take Patton instead, you said he’s made progress correct?” 

“Yes…but,” Logan injected, “He still has episodes, I doubt it will be safe.” 

“Make it safe, ask the council for back up,” Emile carted his hand through his hair, “ Virgil cannot interact, under no circumstance. He’ll regress his training and will get distracted.” 

“You’d never exclude him just for training,” Logan said, voice soft, “What’s going on?”

Emile looked desperate, “Logan, he just told us his name,” he sighed, “He doesn’t need to get involved with this. You’ve trusted me before, Logan, trust me with this.” He steadied his gaze on Logan, finality ringing, “Virgil. Will. Not. Know.” 

“Of course.” 

\---

(Shifting of earth, the beast is loud, scared, and just won’t listen-- the walls closing in, closing in, closing in-but it stops. The earth pausing for the melody. Their voice was hoarse, Spanish crude at best, but the song made his skin hum warm, and his breathing calm. It felt the close to home. )

When Roman wakes up, his cheeks were wet.

An all familiar weight called to him to sleep. Roman rolled up instead, blinking at his surroundings. The forest was different than before; he could feel it's natural hum be consumed by people, by things, even if he was just surrounded by a couple of trees, a campfire, and discarded lunch. 

It was nothing like the beast. Being in her territory was an echo chamber, anything else insignificant compared to her hum. 

Everything too loud. 

Roman rubbed his arms, a small frown in place as he searched the relatively lived in, but empty site. He hears some distant talking and follows, finding Eden crouched near the forest's edge, lights blinking in a distance. 

“What’d I say about eavesdropping.” Eden said, not bothering to turn around, stuffing something into his pocket. 

“That I look good doing it.” Roman blinked away his remaining weariness, adjusting to the dark, “Where are— is that blood?”

Eden looked down at his waist, an annoyed expression pinching his face, “No of course not.” 

Roman sat down beside him, hands trailing Eden ’s forearm, “I thought your scales healed you?” 

Eden gave him a perplexed look, “Not...exactly,” he said, “Asshole in chief refuses to explain it. Though I have some theories.” 

“Are they purely aesthetic?” Roman mused, brows furrowed as he poked at Eden s hand, a ripple of iridescent scales appearing from under Romans thumb.

“May-” Eden yanked back his hand, watching with wide eyes as the iridescent scales changed to a much darker brown that matched Roman’s skin perfectly before returning to Eden ’s tan, “W-What did you do?” 

“I should be asking you that,” Roman said, “It is your body after all.”

“Sure, but it’s never done, this,” Eden gestured vaguely, “--before.” 

“Huh, you must be new to this, ” Roman said, a twinkle in his eye, “But still, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I was the first son,” Roman snorted, “Not the smartest son.” His gaze dropped back to Eden’s abdomen, nose curling, “Don’t you need to clean that?” 

“Do you care?” 

Roman scoffed, “Of course,” he said, “Can’t have my only company dying on me.” 

“I’m swooning,” Eden deadpanned, “And-- there is still the Stranger.” 

Roman shuddered, “Absolutely not,” he said wrapping his arms around his legs, “He might be my only choice, but no self respecting Sander trusts the council, period.” his voice dropped to a whisper, “All-seeing and knowing yet still a lot of dusty, parlour trick immortal bastards. ” 

Eden yawned, propping his head on Roman’s shoulder, “I can believe it.” 

“You should.” 

—-

“You can’t be serious, L, please tell me you’re joking.” 

Logan finished his folding, zipping up the duffle, “I don’t joke.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah and you don’t emote either,” he sniped, glaring daggers at the bag, “Speaking of bullshit, why can't I go, and why are you bringing Patton-- no offense, Pat.” 

Patton was curled at Logan’s window seat, skin glowing at the exposure to the sun. He looked over non-blinking, “Oh, it’s fine, Virge,” he chirped through pointed teeth.

“...Is it?”

“Nope,” Patton giggled, “Though you do have a point.” 

“Uh, see, I have a point!” 

Logan sighed, “Even though I appreciate your efforts to create a structurally sound argument,” he said, “It’s lacking. You’re not going.” 

“W-h-y?”

“Direct orders.” 

Virgil narrowed his eyes, “What did he say?”

“Virgil cannot interact, nor know the specifics of the mission.” Logan recited.

“Huh, that’s it?” Virgil said, “Might as well pack my bags now.” 

“I don’t follow...” 

“Well,” Virgil smirked, flicking his bags out of his eyes, “If I just so happen to be on vacation and Roman just so happens to trip on my foot, then everyone's happy,” 

“But--” Logan’s protest died. 

“No butts-- y’all’ve been hounding me all the time to take a break—here I am, taking a break.” Virgil has already hopped out of the bed and slid out of the room, leaving them to sit in silence. 

Patton twirled the vine of one of Logan’s Pothos, eyes a bit dazed, “You’ve gotten soft,” they said, voice a soft murmur, “I... like that.” 

Logan pinched his nose. This was not going to end well.


	5. City Secrets (Sittin' Secrets)

The Stranger dangled keys, “Get up, bitches,” and he offered a hand. 

Eden groaned, blocking the sun from his eyes, “What…?” he moved to get up, but was trapped. Roman firmly attached to the non-bloody side of his waist. 

When Eden moved to remove their hands, they tightened their grip with a soft, “No.”

The Stranger raised an eyebrow.

Eden rolled his eyes, managing to pry Roman’s hands off with minimal whining, before scooping him up, Roman’s face buried in his shirt. He somewhat managed to grab the Stranger’s free hand, and a flash of light engulfed them. 

When they reappeared, it was thankfully not another forest, but rather a corridor lined with doors of a variety of muted browns, the air stale and thoroughly lived in. Seeing the environment change, Roman was now more awake, arms looped around Eden’s shoulders looking unimpressed. 

The Stranger clicked his tongue, opening the door, “You shouldn’t stay in the hearth anymore,” he explained, “Waking and destroying something that old and territorial draws a lot of unnecessary attention.”

“You mean my brother.” Roman drawled, sliding from Eden’s arms and slinking into the room without another word. 

Eden shuffled into the room, carefully looking over the wide single bed and tapered wallpaper. While it seemed relatively clean, everything did when compared to the musty forest floor of the universe’s forgotten playground. The foreignness of everything clung to every surface, with the lights being just dim enough to seem off, and the outside world making just enough noise to seem present. 

After inspecting around for awhile, Roman wandered into a smaller room, the sounds of running water following. 

Roman poked his head out, “Sorry-- forgot to ask. Did you want to bathe first?” He gestured to the browning, yellowed areas of Eden’s waist. The shirt he had tied over it hanging by threads. 

“Huh,” He blanked, “I guess I didn’--”

“No need for that, Sanders,” The Stranger cooly injected, “He’s not staying here anyways; this room is all for you.” 

Roman’s nose curled, “Ok, wow, rude.” He looked at the Stranger as if he were as mundane as the peeling wallpaper itself, “And that makes no sense. How is he supposed to ‘keep an eye on me’ if he isn’t near me.” 

Eden cocked his head at that. Maybe Roman wasn’t as asleep as they’d thought. 

The stranger waved a hand, chair materializing beside him, “He can sit in the hall while you sleep.” 

“He can sleep in here.”

“There’s only one bed.”

“Oh my god,” Roman mocked, hand pressed to his forehead to swoon, “There’s-- gasp-- only one bed,” before his frown returned, “I grew up with five sisters who were never told no, I think I can handle sharing a bed.”

The Stranger’s lips twitched, a long stretch of silence engulfing the room. Eden would be horrified-- that is, he would be if he hadn’t wished he could say that to the man as well, without getting the nearest water source redirected at his head. Roman didn’t seem worried, impatiently tapping his foot, more concerned over his running water more than anything. 

“Okay.” The Stranger finally said, Eden becoming uncomfortably aware of his stare. He turned around, disappearing before even passing through the door. 

With him gone, Roman’s shoulders slumped, “I swear…” he mumbled, looking Eden up and down once more, “Anyway, let’s get that cleaned up properly.” 

“You don’t need to--”

“I want to.”

\--

Roman shifted, his breathing slow. 

Eden was still mulling over earlier today, trying to make sense of… this. 

Roman didn’t seem like the sharing type. He was probably used to getting everything he wanted without a second thought, so it was a safe assumption to make. And it certainly didn’t make sense for Roman to care about Eden or his well being. The Stranger said Roman liked Eden, but the question was... to what extent?

“Stop thinking so loud.” Roman grumbled, “And just ask.”

Eden rolled over, propping himself on his elbows, “There is no way you knew that.”

Roman’s lips quirked, eyes remaining closed, “And you know me so well?” His hands trailed Eden ’s bare arm, a shiver of scales following the pattern obediently. 

“I want to,” Eden admitted, “Afterall, if I’m going to be watching your ass, I at least need to know something ‘bout this brother of yours.” 

Roman’s eyes flew open, scandalized, “Gross.”

“Roman, come on.” Eden poked his sour face, “You can’t let a man into your bed and not tell him your tragic backstory. That’s just not proper etiquette.” He mocked. He noted that, despite being so clingy, Roman never quite met his gaze anymore. 

“We’ve been sleeping on the same forest floor for the past few weeks- I doubt this is hardly any different.” 

“Oh?” Eden smiled, twirling one of Roman’s curls, the motion causing Roman to falter. 

“Uh- yea- yeah I’d hardly call us lovers-”

Eden decided to take a bit of a risk. His free hand tangled in Roman’s curls as he leaned down closer to Roman’s face, “I guess we do have a unique situation…” 

“So- so some things are better not shared, right? ” Roman stammered, wide eyed. Roman was very much aware of how close they are and Eden may have lingered for a bit longer than he intended. He may have considered briefly taking another risk. 

Roman’s lips were parted slightly, fingers still tracing patterns in Eden ’s arm, and for once he wasn’t looking away from Eden . Eden could easily lean in, he could easily tug them closer. He could probably get away with doing a lot more, if he were to be honest. 

But Eden pulled back all the same, “Of course,” he said, tucking Roman’s hair behind his ear before rolling back over, “G’night Roman,” 

A pause, and then, “...Goodnight,” Roman said, withdrawing his touch as well, if not more reluctant. 

So that answers one question. 

\---

Tracking down Roman was usually an obnoxious affair, but it was certainly not the hardest job Logan has been tasked with. The finding was never an issue, more so the convincing. Apparently simply asking someone to go back to their stone prison did not always work. 

He scanned the local map raptly, “It doesn’t seem like he’s gone to the usually places,” he said, frowning. 

Virgil made a surprised noise, peeking over Logan’s shoulder, “Huh that’s a first,” he snorted, “Maybe Princey’s getting smarter after all?” 

Logan tolled his eyes at that, “Highly unlikely, seeing as he decided to escape— again,” he said, tucking the map underneath his arms, “Oh well, we should still drop by Remus’s grave to be sure he still isn’t around,” 

At that Virgil gaze falter, “Of course, “ he said, hands fidgeting, “Hey Logan…” 

“You don’t need to ask, Virgil, I’m fine with checking myself,” Logan said and Virgil visibly relaxed. 

“Thanks,” Virgil said, stuffing his hands in his worn out jacket. He tossed his hair from his eyes in a careless way, “While you and Patton do that I can check the next town over,” he said, “I heard some rumors about some ancient text and stuff being transported through there and while that's not usually Roman’s gig, it’s certainly of interest,” 

Logan’s eyes squinted a bit, mouth tight, “Take Patton with you,” he said and before Virgil could protest, he held up a single hand.

“Don’t be rude, Virgil, you still aren’t technically supposed to be here.” The threat was clear, “Anyhow, Patton doesn’t like visiting Remus’s grave anymore then you do.” 

“More like he enjoys it too much,” Virgil grumbled, but cut himself off quickly. 

Logan sighed, “As much as you’re right, we can’t change his nature completely, after all—it isn’t… humane. Just keep a close eye on him, he was kept by the Sanders for a reason.” 

Virgil knew he was right. 

Right now, Patton was really a solid option for finding Roman, and fast. It was something to do with being blood bonded or some mumbo jumbo about being the Goddess's--and by extension the Sanders’-- watchdog. But it was always a risk to use. Patton’s loyalty to Logan would never be as strong as his draw to a full blooded Sanders, and that was simply in his nature. 

Virgil didn’t want to discount the progress Patton made, nor the trust they’ve been trying to build, but... the careful gaze Patton held on him as Logan parted ways was something that Virgil's instincts couldn’t ignore. 

Not again. 

\--

Roman was never fond of cities or towns. 

And it wasn’t like he’d seen a lot of them, he hadn’t really seen much beyond the walls of the estate. He’d just had an inkling he would never get along with them and he was right. It was loud, ugly, and infested with people. 

“Ugh,” his lips curled, “Are you sure you can’t carry me?” he said watching as Eden squinted at the ‘phone’ Remy had left in the room that morning.

He was having much better luck with it then Roman, who simply wanted to destroy the infernal device, and was leading them throughout the town’s twist and turns looking for...something. They both weren’t sure if it was a person or a place. It was just a list with hastily scribbled English.

Eden didn’t glance up, “You shouldn’t be tired, ” he said, taking a sudden turn with Roman easily keeping up. 

“Not physically of course,” Roman huffed, “But emotionally, I’m drained--and that damn curse gets stronger the closer a council member get.” he said, and only at that did Eden slow, eyes meeting Roman’s in a curious manner. 

Roman eyes fluttered, “Please,” he whined, feeling himself sway, “We’ve been at it for most of the morning,”

“...Fine,” Eden sighed, “There should be a park nearby you can res-- Oof,” Roman had jumped into Eden ’s arms, And Eden scrambled to hook his arms underneath their thighs, “Roman we’re in public,” he hissed, now hyper aware of the stares they were now getting and the hot trail of scales creeping up his back. 

Roman simply hooked his arms around Eden ’s neck, something that was becoming startling familiar. “What of it?” he murmured, eyes drooping again.

“Hey, hey, hey, “Eden pulled them off to the side, making his way towards the park, “Try and stay awake” he said eyes scanning the crowds critically and , curling the other closer his chest, “Roman…Roman…”

“Mmm,” Roman smiled, eyes slowly opening, “Say my name again, won’t you?”

\---

Virgil may have lost Patton. 

Which… isn’t the best way to start any assignment, but it happens. More frequently then they’d ever admit to the council. So it was silly to freak out, so fucking silly, but Virgil was freaking out. His eyes sharply scanning the crowd Patton effortlessly slipped into, looking for his shining white curls. He was tempted to manifest some more eyes, but---

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash, and like that relief rushed over him

“Pat,” he groaned, hands sliding down his face, “You just can’t do that!” 

Patton blinked, “Roman’s close,” they said, turning on his heels promptly, his cloak falling like waves behind him. 

“Uh,” Virgil balked, “Oh.”

Before he scrambled after, phone already dialing for Logan. 

\---

It was in times like these, did Eden really fucking hate the Stranger. Not only did he have to deal with the consistent reminder that he’s a ticking time bomb, but he had to run errands for his supposed teacher in hopes that he actually got arround to fucking teaching them. 

Oh, and lets not forget the really obvious crush a demi-god had for him. 

Eden … didn’t really hate that though. It was convenient, it was amusing, and Eden could admit it was kinda flattering. The thing is...it was distracting. It was really distracting. 

Cause with another person, Eden could probably get away with being an asshole about it, and getting the job done. But seeing as Roman could quite literally crush him with a whim, Eden had to be a lot more patient. So that’s why he’s here, in the park letting Roman rest up. Not because he’s completely lost, and frustrated, or because Roman batted his eyelashes at him. 

That would be ridiculous, and completely and utterly, unprofessional. 

Eden glanced down, feeling Roman stir again, “You feel better?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Roman arched his back with a yawn, “We should...you should…” he hooked his fingers into the material of Eden ’s shirt, face scrunched up in concentration. 

Eden ignored that, instead eyeing the phone’s clock, “It isn’t too late, we can still make up for lost time,” 

“Eden.” Roman said, and something about his tone put him on edge.

“Yes…?” 

Roman met his gaze, sharp, “Duck.” 

\---

Patton had barreled into the park without hesitation.

They’re luminescent skin burned in the light as they struck at once, the ground rippling under his touch. And amongst the smoke, and dust, and screams of traumatized civilians just enjoying life there was Roman, effortlessly floating amongst the rubble, his hair a beacon that Patton had narrowed on easily. Roman almost looked surprised to see them. But in an instant, the surprise was gone, and Roman dropped back into the smoke. 

Virgil fell into position behind Patton easily, “Left,” he whispered.

Patton twisted their head unnaturally, dodging the incoming tree branch with ease, before darting forward. He forced himself not to look back, hoping Virgil was close behind. The branch barreled into the ground, it’s bark blackened unnaturally, before it sharply twisted around. 

“Two right,” Virgil said, and Patton dropped to the ground at once. A tree splitting apart, crashing around them, Roman’s laugh not far behind. They’d scrambled up, just in time for the ground below them to shatter, Patton crushing an incoming branch and Virgil jumping swift over the accompanying mudslide, hanging on tight to a tree, before dropping and diving behind Patton at once.

“Is there someone else here? He...I...” Virgil was out of breath, “Something isn’t right,” he managed to say. His many eyes were frantic, their vivid purple shining in the cloudy smoke. Searching...scanning…

“...Above…” he whispered, horrified. 

\---

Roman was extremely tired. 

With a wave of his hand, the dust clouds dropped at once. Roman staggered, limbs heavy with every step. He eyed the uprooted land. Its blackened soil and crumbling remains a bleak sight. He felt the curse’s lull encroaching stronger. He faintly noted that while he could feel the dampened presence of the other two, but they weren’t full fledged council members. So...

His brother should be here soon. 

At that thought, he felt his hysteria finally bubble. His laughter spilling in hiccups, as he swayed, not quite fighting the darkness that crept in his vision. 

It wouldn’t be long till they get him again, it never took long. 

He drank each second greedily, trying to remember the cool of the air, and the grumble of the earth beneath him. He held on those memories tight, feeling hot tears spill down his face. He felt his knees buckle, but he never felt the hard embrace of the ground, nor the swift coolness of sleep. 

He knew without looking it was Eden ’s hands that steadied him. They were unnaturally callous free, but strong, easily gripping Roman’s waist and pulling him to their chest. 

Only then did Roman let his eyes close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!so rhis is part one (ch1-ch5)!! 
> 
> after each part they're will be a hiatus (as usual) so i can write the next chunk of the story. ive always found that that works better for me then writing a story completely then uploading or weekly chapter uploads sooo
> 
> thanks for reading!   
> -rose


	6. Moldy Apples-Rotten Trees

“You can’t be serious,” Getting no response, Eden’s jaw dropped, “You asshole, you are serious? Don’t walk away from me--” he yanked the Stranger’s hand, “You can’t be serious,” he gritted through his teeth, eyes pleading.

The Stranger looked at him with an air of contempt, “Doll,” he said, yanked his hand away, “Dear,” he brushed off his hot pink jacket, “I am serious, and I am walking away.”

“But, you, “ Eden’s face felt hot, “You can’t.”

At that the Stranger snorted, “Oh? I can’t?” he mocked and Eden froze. “Hon, as far as I’m concerned, I can do what I want,” his voice held an unmistakable growl, “You two dissapointed me today.”

“We didn't have enough time,” Eden shouted, “Roman was attacked--”

“Yes,” The Stranger exclaimed, clasping his hands together dramatically, “Sanders, was attacked.” his face fell, “Not you, darling. ”

“You,” Eden felt his hands shake, “You told me to look out for him,”

“I did say that didn’t I…” The Stranger tapped his jaw, “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t find the ingredients earlier. Eden, you promised me no failures and while you may think it’s simply a small task, I never take promises lightly.” his lips curled at the thought, “If you want to begin your actual training, dear, you’ll have to give me one good reason to overlook today’s failures.” 

Eden grumbled and the Stranger tilted their head, eyes narrowed, “What was that?”

“I said,” Eden spat, face flushed, “I didn’t know they were ingredients.” 

“And I thought you were smart--”

“I am,” Eden hissed, “I am smart. I am fucking capable. You can’t…” he pinched his nose, “You gave us a list and left, without any explanation. In a town we’ve never been in before. English isn’t my first language, and it sure as hell isn’t Romans first language. I don’t know what you fucking expected.” He wasn’t stopping there. 

Eden inhaled, now sneering, “No, I do know what you expected. You expect everything to work out with hardly any work on your end. Well sucks to suck, because that’s not how it's going to work. You be a shit teacher, you get shit students, you get shit results.” 

The silence that followed was dreadful, really.

It hung over the two, thick. As if in any moment a crack will form and drop the weight of the universe over their heads. It was painful, it was arduous, it was every word in the book, but Eden refused to falter. 

He refused to beg again. 

The Stranger didn’t turn around, his hand dragging through his hair with a sigh before walking away again, “Someone’s certainly worked up, huh? Get some rest. We start tomorrow.” he said.

Eden still felt cheated, “Aren’t you going to apologize you dickhe--”

The Stranger was already gone.

Nothing but the bland hall wallpaper and Eden remained. 

“Of course,” he grumbled feeling sick. He itched, feeling the day’s grime coating his skin and reminding him all too much of the prison cell. 

Eden turned on his heel into the motel room, door slamming behind him. 

Roman looked up, shirt partly buttoned and hair still wet, “Oh, what did he have to say--” he made an alarmed sound, scratching his cheek, “Uh…Are you o--”

“Yes, I am,” Eden snapped, smile tight, “I’m fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?” 

“Okay...” Roman still looked alarmed, “Anyway...You know…” he said, twirling his hair, “When we first met, you really did remind me of my brother,” 

“I assume that isn’t a compliment?”

“It really isn’t,” Roman admitted, “But...you were here for me today. You’ve been there for me a lot actually. I don’t know why I thought you'd ...leave me but…” he ducked his head, voice soft, “Thank you. I know the Stranger is forcing you to help me, but it still means a lot.” 

Eden… didn’t expect that. Not from him, the acknowledgement was confusing and he searched Roman’s face waiting for the catch--waiting for the wandering, expectant gaze, but he found none. Roman’s face was open in the most innocent of ways. Intense, but genuine. 

Eden wasn’t sure what to say, “Yeah... ” he settled on, “It’s...no problem. Orders and all--I’ve gotta go... take a bath and get this shit off me,” he said, grabbing a towel and rushing into the bathroom.

Closing the door he slumped into his hands. When Eden finally looked into the mirror, he already knew he was blushing, the pink dusting his face and only getting stronger the more that he thought about… 

He shook his head hard, splashing some cold water on his face, before looking into the mirror again and--Fuck. 

The entirety of the left side of his face was covered with scales. Their iridescent shimmer now resembling solid gold as they stretched from his forehead, to his cheek, and his chin. 

It was only until the next morning that he realized they wouldn’t go away. 

\---

The Council is an organization comprised of thousands, with nearly doubled that amount of apprentices, interns, and familiars. It is all encompassing with people from every walk of life. Normally they’re humans artificially instilled with the Godesses’s influence, but the occasional magic folk are admitted alongside with the expansive watchdogs department--though they are currently under investigation. 

Out of these thousands, sat a handful of those tasked with the most...delicate decisions, these decisions following an ancient protocol written by the Goddess herself. A code they will follow until she wakes again. 

What that code is... is none of your business. 

Emile was of these handful Councilmen, he’s one of the youngest in fact. As such he’s held to a higher standard than most others and this extends to his students as well. He provides them nothing but the best care and in return he expects the best in terms of performance, presentation, and discipline. He’d been proud to say that he hadn’t needed to enforce the latter for awhile now, but his students never fail to keep him on his toes. 

“Logan,” Emile said, sternly.

“Sir,” Logan responded, politely not looking him in the eye. 

Emile folded his glasses, the leather chair squelching as he leaned back, “Logan, normally I trust your judgement, but I’m having a hard time following your reasoning for disobeying direct orders.” 

“I mean he didn't really directly disobey you, it’s more like he didn’t stop me--” Virgil promptly shut his mouth as Emile regarded him. 

“Virgil,” Virgil winced so Emile continued softer, “Please be a dear and check up on Patton,” Emile said, “The Doctors said he should be waking up soon and we wouldn’t want him to wake up alone, now would we?” His gaze clearly read: Take the hint, son. 

“Yes sir,” Virgil grumbled, expression pained. He stuffed his hands in his jacket before shuffling out of the library. Message received. 

Soon enough the soft footsteps faded. 

Only then did Logan speak, “Sir, I did try to enforce your orders but….”

“Virgil is rather persistent when ignored,” Emile said, considering, “But if you are to lead, you’ll need to assert yourself. Virgil might not like it, but it’s for the best.” 

“Yes, I… understand, but, “ Logan squinted, pulling out his worn notepad, “I treated the assignment as if it would be the same as previous instances,” he said, flipping through the pages with a frown, “Virgil was clearly excluded because of something personal, but I was still unsure of how that connected Roman escaping,” 

Emile listened carefully and Logan continued, “I knew the ‘Stranger’ helped him initially escape, but as far as the records are concerned Virgil has no known connection to the Stranger. Those same records also suggest the “Stranger” is relatively hands off--which is a fact I dismissed until I read over Virgil’s account in which he mentioned that there was someone else in the area during and after the encounter. Seeing as Roman was unaffected by their presence it’s safe to assume it was someone non-council.”

“Virgil didn’t see who it was, did he?” Emile said, twirling a pen idly as he stared hard at the pictures on his desk. 

Logan shook his head, “No, he was otherwise occupied,” he said, looking annoyed, “I’m assuming that means you’re familiar with our unknown variable?”

“Yes,” Emile admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Logan said, “We would have researched him, we could’ve been more prepared, Patton could’ve--” 

“Logan, “ Emile said, calm, “If I tell you who he is, will it affect your performance?” 

“I’m afraid I cannot promise anything, sir, without knowing.” 

“That...does make sense,” Emile looked tired, pushing the picture frame down, gentle, “Do you remember the day we found Virgil?” he asked. 

It was a stupid question. 

How could anyone forget that day?

Logan could smell the thick air of metallic, could hear the unforgiving current of water, could see the single bloodied hand gripping with a vengeance to the bank--as if challenging the river to sweep him under. 

Logan inhaled, “Are you implying our Unknown did that to Virgil?” 

He was calm, his voice was steady, and face impassive. 

“Will this affect your performance, Logan?”

And Logan laughed.

“Of course it will.” he said.


	7. A Wizard (And His Stupid Yellow Brick Road)

“Eden?”

…

“...Eden?” 

Eden flinched, registering Roman’s hand on his face, “Don-” he jerked his head away, “Don't touch me.” he managed to say, hair recovering the scales. 

“I…” Roman’s face fell, “You’ve… never minded before…” he said, “Do they really bother you that much?” 

“Yes?” Eden sighed, “No? I don’t know…not really. It feels… natural at this point. I barely notice them. It's… annoying that I can't control them anymore. The Stranger’s gonna get pissy again when he finds out.” 

At that Roman hummed, leaning against a tree, “They feel natural now, huh?” he had a curious look, “I don’t think it should be a problem.” he said, “In fact, I’m sure the Stranger should’ve been expecting this.” 

“My incompetence?”

“No,” Roman scolded, “It’s like… It’s like a second puberty,” Roman’s fingers snapped at the revelation. Edens stared at him like he’d grown a second head. 

“No, no really.” Roman paced about talking with his hands, “You were only introduced-- reintroduced-- to magic like what, a year or two ago? This is a sign that you’re body’s getting used to the changes.” he explained, nodding his head raptly, “It’s pretty common to adopt nonhuman or Goddess traits. It shouldn’t affect you learning how to use magic.”

“That… that makes sense,” Eden accepted, though he didn’t move back his hair, “But…” he twisted his head unnaturally, scanning Roman from top to bottom, “If it’s normal why don’t you have any?” 

“I, uh,” Roman twirled their hair, “I have a few…” he said, “You shouldn’t really get that many, but my family’s magic is natural and strongly tied to the Goddess, so—stop giving me that look.” 

“What look?” Eden shamelessly checked him out again. 

“Stop that--Ugh I swear,” Roman grumbled, “But…” He parted his thick, red curls revealing delicate, ornate horns, curling against his head.

It was a blossoming crown, the smooth silver catching the light with a dazzling elegance, before disappearing into the shadow’s of Roman’s curls. Even though Eden had only just seen them, he found it hard to imagine Roman without them. 

Roman squirmed under the attention, hiding the horns abruptly, “See, it’s perfectly normal,” he said, “And I have a few others...but um,” he looked embarrassed, “It’s um...private. The Stranger probably won’t be too happy about us taking too long we should go--” he called out, skipping ahead. 

“Knowing him, he’s probably asleep,” Eden said, catching up with Roman, staying a step or two behind. He might have been staring a bit. He blamed curiosity. 

Even though the Stranger had teleported them to… here, they insisted on walking the rest of the way to where they would be staying. It didn’t seem as old as the Hearth, but it was a far cry from the towns and cities. It reminded Eden of the woods around his village. 

It seemed like a memory long since drained. Instead of lush, overbearing forests the trees were sparse and rocks plentiful. Any greenery was obscured by a pervasive tint of grey, effectively making Roman the brightest thing for miles. And the loudest. Lets not forget the loudest.

It was mainly questions or nonsense which at least drowned out Eden’s own thoughts for the time being, so he didn’t mind. As the gravel path became rockier, they saw the vague outline of the Stranger and a cavernous entrance stark with shadows. 

Before they caught up with their mentor, however, Roman slowed. Eden knew without looking they had yet another question.

“Hey…” Roman at least had the decency to look ashamed, “If you do end up adopting more traits… does this…” His shoulders shook and he covered his mouth. Was...was he trying not to laugh? “Do you wonder what other reptile...traits you’ll get?” 

It was such an innocent question, but Roman’s gaze trailed downward in such a suggestive manner that it couldn’t possibly be innocent.

Eden blinked, confused. He followed Roman’s line of sight, before immediately flushing and becoming the second brightest thing for miles. 

“Roman.” He gritted his teeth.

“Yes, Eden? ” Roman answered, and the bastard was indeed laughing. 

“Fuck. Off.”

\---

They descended into the winding caves single file, steps cautious. 

It wasn’t completely dark, however the slivers of light were only a temporary comfort as day faded into night all at once. Despite this, the caves seemingly came into more of focus. Toothy rocks smiling pleasantly, their drool dripping methodically and gathering in murky pools. 

In the midst of shadows, creatures not quite...recognizable scurried and burrowed. Some with fur growing in jagged patches of colors Eden couldn’t name, some had scales lummincent and sliding across their skin. Most had silver eyes. Eyes plentiful, beady, and begging.

While the environment wasn’t...threatening, there was certainly an air of it. As if something commanded respect. Even Roman eventually fell silent.

At a certain point, the Stranger slowed, turning the address the two, “While we’re here,” his voice echoed, seeming too big for the caves, “You two must be on your best behavior. You may or may not like me or my methods-- I don’t care,” he said, tilting his shades downwards, “Follow my orders and don’t waste my time, ” He pushed his shades up and with a flourish of his hand, the path was illuminated in a spiral down and at the bottom was….

“Oh…” Roman gasped as he peered over the edge, “I thought they were all dead?”

\---

It was a village, of what, Eden wasn’t sure.

He knew they weren’t human. However their bright, wide eyes and bustling interactions in unknown, but familiar tongues suggested they weren’t comparable to the beasts lurking in the caves either. Something about the way they floated on the air, feet barely brushing the ground, had an air of elegance.Their wings a luminescent trail behind them. 

Eden was sure he’s seen the way they moved before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“The Aleseners were one of the first, but The Council had declared them dead,” Roman explained softly, as the Stranger led them past stone homes. They weren’t welcomed, but they weren’t turned away either. Though Eden did feel their stares lingering, and for once he didn’t suspect it was on himself. 

“There will be plenty of time for a history lesson later,” the Stranger’s scowl fell as he stopped in front of one stone home on the outskirts of the village. It was smaller than the rest, lacking any glowing fungi in the windows, or intricate carving in its walls.

Before the Stranger stepped inside an Alesener appeared. Their skin a soft, glittering silver, with matching doe eyes. Her eyes somehow managing to become wider. She clicked something before drifting with purpose to the Stranger. Their wings lifted to embrace the other tight.The Stranger held her tighter. 

Roman squeaked, covering their face. 

“What’s wrong?” Eden asked, averting his gaze as well.

“It...really…” Roman seemed to be getting even more flustered, “It might be a Sanders thing,but wings are sensitive--at least compared to our skin.” Eden waited for him to explain further and Roman did, despite looking like he’d rather be doing anything, but that. 

“It’s...Intimate, for her to let him touch her wings so directly like that…” he said, hugging his arms, “It isn’t necessarily romantic, but it means they’re...close.” 

“Oh…” Eden said, clicking it all into place. The feathery steps, how Roman floated when the watchdog attacked. 

The outline under Roman’s blouse was faint, but it was definitely there.

“Sanders, Eden,” The Stranger called and the Alesener withdrew their embrace, wings tucked behind them along the curve of their spine, “This is Dot. You’ll be staying with her while you study.” 

“Hello,” She smiled wide, her accent tinkling, “You must be…” she tilted her head, attention narrowed on Roman and in an instant she was behind him, her wide fingers trailing his shoulder, “A Sanders?” She exclaimed, “I thought they were dead?”

“Almost,” The Stranger said, dry, “Apparently their trial is still ongoing.” 

“Aw, poor things,” Dot mumbled, “And he’s so young too? His wings have hardly grown in…” her finger trailed to Roman’s spine, and he jumped. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Roman said, non too subtly tucking himself behind Eden’s shoulders, despite being a few inches taller. 

“I forgot Sanders were such modest things...” Dot said, she met Eden’s narrowed gaze, “You must be His other student,” she said, as if finally registering Eden’s presence. She fluttered around Eden, studying him, “You’re quite pretty, for a... human.” 

“So I’ve been told,” Eden said, “My name is Eden.”

Dot seemed pleased at that, “A name? He already has a name? Wonderful,” she said, “Eden? Eden, ” she tested out in that curious way of hers, “I believe I’ve heard that before, from a book perhaps? Was it book?” she asked and the Stranger shrugged, “It was a book you gave me, or maybe it was...yes I’m sure of it. “ she nodded, “Now did he come with that name, or did the Sanders give it to him?” 

“He isn’t my watchdog.” Roman grumbled.

“Of course not, dear,” She cooed, twirling around, making no comment about the Stranger’s disappearance, “Now come along, I’ll show you where you two will be staying. You’ll start tomorrow.” 

\---

It was strange to sleep in two beddings, but Eden suspected Roman might want to keep that distance. Aleseners were pretty adamant about keeping most human by-products out, with a couple exceptions, so they were forced to wear one of Dot’s many backless, silk dresses. 

They weren’t particularly scandalous to Eden, but Roman wouldn’t look him in the eye until Dot gave him a shawl. 

He watched as Roman played with the red fabric, before asking, “So that glowing guy who attacked you was a watchdog right?”

Roman looked up surprised, “Uh, yeah, that’s Patton,” he said, he turned around so he could face Eden better, “He’s a weird one… but I think that’s because he was so close to my brother. It’s not normal for them to get so attached to one Sanders. Usually they go back to their colonies after a couple years of service.” 

Eden squinted, “Logan?”

“No--” Roman shook his head, “Logan never had watchdogs growing up,” he did not elaborate, “I’m talking about Remus. We’re twins.” 

“This Remus isn’t going to be hunting us down too, right?” Eden sighed. 

Roman looked as if he was remembering something, but he soon laughed it off, “If he was, we wouldn’t have a chance,” he shrugged, leaning back and closing his eyes, “Remus is the strongest. If I was born any later....I wouldn’t have had a chance.” 

“I’m sure he isn’t that strong.” 

“Eden,” Roman inhaled, as if the comment itself was blasphemous, “When I was three, I was still learning how to breathe without falling over. A nurse was practically glued to my bedside until I was like--what? Twelve. When he was three, he dragged a kraken out of the ocean because my pet fish died.” he said, “He only got stronger.” 

Eden opened his mouth.

Eden closed his mouth.

Eden opened his mouth “Did you keep the kraken?” he asked. 

“We keep it at our summer home,” Roman said with a raised eyebrow, “Though... the council might’ve repossessed it at this point.” 

Eden blinked, not sure if he was still reeling from the pet kraken or the thought of owning a second home, “So… any other people I should watch out for?” 

“Mm, a lot really,” Roman said, “But I’ll keep it simple. Logan is the one with the glasses. Not big on violence, dreadful bore. Some say he’s the smartest son-- And I guess?” Roman shrugged, “He thinks well, but you think faster. Sometimes if you act stupid you can piss him off real quick and he gets sloppy, but that’s only when Patton isn’t around.” 

Realizing Roman was answering the question seriously, Eden straightened up, attention sharp. 

“Then there’s Patton, the one I hate the least, who’s still the most dangerous out of all of them. Don’t let him touch you. Don’t. Otherwise, he’s pretty quiet. And then there’s--” Roman frowned for a moment, “I don’t know his name do I? But he’s the frumpy one with a lot of eyes, talks a lot of shit. He’s quick on his feet, but his legs are weak and he sucks at combat. If he finds a place to hide, you’re fucked. Oh...and some reason he doesn’t like me.” At that last comment Roman’s eyes sparkled, lips curled in a dangerous way.

Eden leaned in closer, “What did you do?” 

“Well...It was the thirdish time they were sent to get me, and they captured me, right ” Roman started, “And I guess Emile-- Oh yeah stay the fuck away from Emile, he makes you talk about your feelings--but he gave them an assignment about the proper way to handling prisioners, right? So me, a prisoner, was prime material--” 

During the story Roman had become a lot more animated, the shawl slipping and gathering around their waist, and him leaning in as well. Around the time they were describing how easy mystery man is to rile up, Roman had somehow acquired Eden’s hands to play with--which did seem to calm him down in a way that made his overly excited tangents more understandable. So Eden didn’t comment on it. 

Sometime along the way, their beddings were pushed together. At this point Roman was detailing his “extensive criminal history”---which moreso resembled Roman fucking with the Council, who contiuously couldn’t find an effective way to keep him contained. 

So Eden eventually relaxed, he listened carefully to the stories-- even the ones that were obviously faked-- enjoying the cadence of Roman’s voice. 

Eden knew he should probably be sleeping soon, he should be preparing for tomorrow, he should be planning, he should be remembering why he wanted this in the first place but…

But… he’ll allow it, for a little while longer at least.


	8. Eden and Goliath

Roman pressed his face into Eden’s back, greedy, sleep vaguely escaping him. 

There was talking in the next room. 

He sniffed, annoyed as the voices got louder, most likely an argument, before they stopped all at once. All of which sucked because he didn’t even get a chance to eavesdrop, but Roman couldn’t find it in him to care. Too warm, too tired, not his problem. 

When he resurfaced he grasped the blankets beside him, feeling them empty. 

“Ede...” He blinked, dread washing over him. His eyes snapping wide as he only saw Dot, she stood watching him, her mouth thin, like something made her sick. 

“Where is he?” Roman demanded, the ground waking with a jolt. 

Dot’s expression got steely as the earth shook, “Don’t.” She said simply, “Not unless you want this whole mountain falling on your head. Eden’s fine, He’s just starting his training…” she explained, “You however...are with me. Apparently you don’t like the Stranger that much, huh?”

“He’s a council member, of course I don’t like him,” Roman grumbled, wrapping himself in the shawl, “And I certainly don’t like him being alone with Eden.” 

“Understandable...but, the Stranger’s...different, though,” Dot said, “He cares. I’m not sure what he cares about, but he cares.” she waved, her face blossoming all at once. Her smile was a bit too wide, but not entirely plastic, “Anyway I’m here to help you.”

“With what?”

“Don’t play coy, Sanders,” She said, serious, “A little birdie told me everything you touch turns to ash. You’re overworking yourself. If you continue using your magic like that, you’ll end up killing yourself before the curse does.” 

Roman closed his eyes, “I know.” 

He’d long since accepted it.

\---

At first glance, the pitt was empty.

It wasn’t a deep pitt, it’s walls were climbable, not particularly jagged, and it was clearly empty. This assumption can also be applied to the Stranger’s head, seeing as he presented said empty pitt with a flourish, as if it was a death sentence. 

The rules were relatively simple. 

No attempting to kill it. (What “it” was Eden had no clue.)  
No attempting to escape the pitt before time is up. (Eden was given five hours.)  
No more baseless assumptions. (Sure.) 

The Stranger promised that they would work on conditioning, but now the Stranger needed test drive Eden’s magic to see what type they will be working on. The Stranger apparently had an idea of the type, but he didn’t seem inclined to share. 

So Eden was dropped in an empty pitt, tired, cold, and vaguely pissed off. 

\---

Thirty minutes have passed and Eden can confirm that pitt was not in fact empty. It was incredibly not empty and whatever was fucking in it was relentless. 

Every time Eden’s dress had caught the light, the creature was on him, it's hot breath tearing after Eden in a soundless rage. Every time Eden shuddered, the tell-tell crunching of gravell followed. Fun times. 

As if to further emphasis this point, the creature slammed into Eden’s back. Scales rippled down his spine as he stumbled and ate stone. 

Blood filled his mouth, heady. He scrambled up, the haunting sizzle of the creatures acid filled his nose. He assessed the situation. He assessed he was going to fucking die-- 

He inhaled sharply, wiping his mouth. 

Those thoughts won’t help anyone. 

He clearly wasn’t meant to take the hits the entire time. While his scales were okay in regards to protecting his actual skin, after the fifth or so time being slammed into the ground Eden doubts that’s their main use.

His eyes darted, watching the gravel crunch as the monster started slinking towards him again. Great, so he just had to figure out their primary use and hope it’s enough to stop this madness. Fantastic. 

This is fine. He needed to think. It isn’t combative, but defensive. The Stranger obviously thinks it would be useful in this situation where the creature mainly uses sight to track prey. 

So Eden didn’t need to worry about covering up his smell or being quiet, he needed to….

Disappear. 

\---

“I hate it,” Roman glared holes into the dirt in front of him, pushing it away.

Dot made a confused-esq chittering sound, peering over his shoulder, “Darling, this is the easiest possible thing you learn,” she said, waving her hand over the dirt--- drooping blooms sprouting and shrivingly all within a moment, “You should’ve learned this as a kid.”

“I wasn’t exactly the smartest.” Roman crossed his arms. He always ended up killing them or taking so long that the instructor or Remus did it for him out of pity. 

Dot looked at him considering, “This doesn’t mean you’re not smart.” she said without hesitation, “You have a strong amount of persuasion over the earth. Too much, in-fact.” she said, pushing the dirt pile in front of him again, “You need practice.”

“We’ll be here forever,” Roman groaned. 

Dot was unbothered, tapping the pile again, “I still have to make your medicines, so we have time.” she said, her doe eyes making him feel exposed, but willing. 

So Roman tried again.

And again, and again, and again. 

\---

Eden was cornered. 

His scales covered every inch of himself, but he couldn’t manage to let himself disappear. No, he knew he could. In fact he was painfully aware of how easily he could make himself disappear. The memory was so strong, it was intrinsic. As if he could feel his mom guiding his hands, telling him how to slip away, how to hold his tongue, how to not get--

It wasn’t anything he’s done before, physically. 

But he knew he could do it. 

He really didn’t want to, it felt like he was crossing a line, accepting--

It was absurd. He could die or worse, the Stranger would drop training all together. Drop him back in that little village. But Eden felt like he was already there. He could feel their stares on him, wanting him to just die already. Swinging their lanterns, screaming their curses, their accusations. His “family” in line to watch the bloodbath, not a prayer on their lips. 

All he could think of was his first memory of his mother begging his “family” to take her in, to treat her like nothing. As if their scraps were salvation. 

Eden spat the blood from his mouth. 

He spat on the memories, he spat on their scraps. 

He wanted more. 

He needed to focus, the creature was looming over him, saliva stinging his face. The Stranger nowhere in sight. He needed to not fucking die and he certainly didn’t want the Stranger’s pity. He needed to Disappear, disappear, disappear, dissap--

He looked up, the shadow of the beast retreating to it’s cave. 

Eden looked at himself and saw nothing. 

\---

“You seem to be overthinking the technical parts and while they’re necessary, they’re not everything. Your connection with the Goddess is everything and that isn’t a diagram you can replicate, ” Dot’s advice echoed, “Try and focus on a memory or an emotion. Anything to make it personal.” 

“I am focusing on a memory,” Roman grumbled, dirt crumpling into ash again. 

“A positive memory, dear.” Dot scolded, “If not that try a positive emotion. You’re sensitive, so the bond is sensitive. It won’t make any sense to be callous---gentle, darling, gentle…” 

-

Roman was coaxing a thin stem to grow, when he heard footsteps and the sharp grumbling of “Put me down-- I can walk myself you--.” in the home. 

He spun around, “Eden!” he beamed, as he ran to meet him. 

Eden resembled every definition of agitated and from the looks of it, he had every right to. His dress was melted at the edges, gouges littering his skin where his scales didn’t, and half of his hair was hanging in damaged threads as if it had been hastily cut or, rather, burned to ear length. 

“How did it go..?’ Roman asked, not quite sure what to fret over first. 

Eden was on the verge of snarling at this point, “What do you think you--” his sharp face, softened. Eyes lost somewhere past Roman. 

Roman glanced over his shoulder.

Oh.

There was Dot of course, her smug face sliding right into horrified once she got a good look at Eden. And the room… the room was alive in every sense of the word. Petals drifting from the ceiling in a cascade of colors and the struggling plant from earlier was bursting from it’s pot, petals a wide, ivory dripping with gold.

“Beautiful…” Eden was breathless.

Some petals drifting into Eden’s hair among the charred pieces and he plucked them up with a smile. It was a small smile. A smile someone gives when they have nothing else to give. A smile someone gives between whispers, or slides into the palm of your hand when no one else was looking. 

It was barely there, but for Roman it meant the world.


	9. Never Gonna Get it (never gonna get it)

A file slid across the table. 

Emile didn’t look up, his chair squeaking as he shifted one leg over another, “Logan, you heard what I said, you won’t be on any field missi--”

“Until Patton recovers?” Logan finished, “His physical therapy’s been going well and he’s passed his mental health assessment.” He stood, hands clasped and stance unwavering, so much so you could hardly notice the bags under his eyes. 

Emile thumbed the pages, but didn’t open the file yet, “What about your mental health assessment?” He asked, and Logan grew still, “Ms. Dana mentioned it had been awhile since you’ve scheduled an appointment...”

“I got busy,” Logan’s lips were tight. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not scolding, only being a bit of a worry wart,” Emile poured more honey into his tea, stirring methodically, “I know it isn’t required of all apprentices, but it is recommended to help with the stress. Especially with offerings coming up…” 

“I’m fine, now.” Logan muttered, “I overreacted before. “

“Having any feelings is not an overreaction,” Emile sighed, setting down his tea cup, before flipping through the file, his face growing more grim, “This plan isn’t your best, Logan. ” he said, “But...it isn’t your worst.”

Logan nodded, “My brother is still suspected to have stronger sensory capabilities then we have on record,” he pulled out his notebook and continue to list, “And there's always a risk that the Unknown has sensory based magic as well, or worse, strong combative magic.” 

“Yes, and…?”

“There is a strong chance,” Logan flipped a page, “A possibility,” he squinted at the blurred ink, “That Roman might drop a mountain on our heads.” 

“Can you make it so there’s no possibility?”

Logan shrugged, “I’ll make some adjustments,”

\---

A Complete History of Creatures, Beasts, And Others Blessed by the Goddess

1001 Theories On Why The Goddess Continues to Sleep: Will We Ever Repent?

Where was the Goddess's Actual Last Resting Place: A Five Part Analysis

Dirty, Musty, Dusty Languages For Absolute Buffoons (Yes You!!!)

These among numerous others, were assigned by the Stranger, in between the strenuous exercises and questionable lectures of life advice --- which often approximated to “Repress that shit.” Which, to be fair Eden was trying. 

Dot was more useful than the Stranger, but she was useful in a kind, approachable way that made Eden uncomfortable. Maybe he was waiting for the catch. 

Still, she explained everything, showing them around the village and introducing Aleseners customs to with an almost analytical pride. She ensured the Stranger didn’t work them into an early fucking death, but she was still… odd with anything too human. As in, she knew more than any other Alesener about human customs, but most of what she knew lacked context, as if they were merely a fascinating fantasy. 

All of it was odd, to be completely honest, but as their time in the Aleseners’ village progressed, it became the new normal. Magical exercises in the mornings, creature handling in the evenings, and studying through most of the night. 

Right about now, Eden was trying not to pull out his hair. 

In front of him were strewn various guides about controlling magic, all of which were largely unhelpful for shapeshifting. Sure, he could now blend into his environment, but now he had to learn how to become other people. Which was hard. Really, really hard. 

“What about this?” Roman said, rolling over to show a particularly dusty book. The book read: “Creatures Dead and Dying: A Complete, Extensive Report.”

“Very funny,” Eden rolled his eyes, idly scanning the pages in front of him. 

“No-nuno-Really, look!” Roman whined, shoving the book on Eden’s lap before he could protest, “Look right here,”

“That’s what you said last--” Eden took a second look, “Huh, that actually might be useful.” he admitted, reading the page more thoroughly, “The hell…”

The page detailed an old type of magic folk, Unnamed, known for their camouflage, reptilian traits, and tendency to congregate near humans. Most of them were largely driven out or killed… There are no known records of them currently living-- the Council decred them dead centuries ago-- but there are plenty of theories about how they honed their craft. 

“Find anything useful?” Roman asked leaning on Eden’s shoulder and squinting at the tiny text and darkly stained photos. 

“Some first hand accounts and…” Eden blushed, “Uh a lot about sex.” he mumbled flipping through the accounts faster, “A ridicolous amount about sex--what the hell--” he fought through his embaressment and read through the pages again ,“Oh.”

“So you are getting a hemipe-”

Eden held up a hand, “Absolutely not, ” he shushed, still engrossed in the book.

“So you need to get laid?” R

oman said, “Is that it?”

“For someone so modest, you’re filthy.” Eden batted Roman’s prodding hands away. 

“I’m not--it was a genuine question,” Roman’s pouted, “But what else does it say?” 

“I think...it’s an act of intimacy, cause there are some accounts talking about weddings and...funera--” Eden flipped that page abruptly, “I guess it’s easier to keep form if you know the person well, mentally, physically. Kinda like a memory, the stronger the memory is the better the shift.” Eden concluded, “Though I guess the more I do it, the less I’ll need to actually know.” 

“Oh, that’s all?” Roman said, “Do me, then.” 

“Again, filthy,” Eden said as Roman scooted in front of him, “I’ll start with your face,” he continued hands cradling Roman’s lax face. 

He studied them, carefully tracing the dips of their face. The dimples in their cheeks, and the roundness of their nose. Eden felt his scales slowly but surely morph. Slowly, but surely he mimicked the wrinkles under Roman’s big, silver eyes and how their eyelashes fanned dark onto their cheeks. 

Roman leaned down a bit to give Eden a better look, nimble fingers digging into Eden’s shirt, legs pressed close. He was humming that lullaby. And Eden felt that song creep into the shift, softening too harsh lines, breathing life into the illusion. 

Eden’s thumb swept the bottom of Roman’s lips, the melody warm under his hands. Roman warm under his hands, as he traced their lips, feeling the soft--

Eden’s breath hitched, and like that and the illusion was broken. 

“What happened?” Roman asked, half dazed.

“I got distracted.” he admitted. 

“What... were you distracted by?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, “ Eden scowled, “Now stop fidgeting-- Roman,” Eden hissed -- like actually hissed -- as he caught Roman’s hands in his, while starting the process all over again. It seemed to calm Roman down a bit now that he had something to play with, but realistically Eden knew that it wouldn’t last for long so he worked quickly. 

This time it was a lot easier, but it was at such an ineffective pace he knew he’d have to get faster. He can’t do... this to every person he tries to mimic. Eden has a feeling they won’t be as willing as Roman. 

“I think,” Eden squinted, “I’m done, how does it look?”

“Huh,’ Roman’s gaze was critical, “You’ve nearly got all my freckles.” 

“How would you even--Nearly?” Eden looked offended.

“I stare at myself a lot Eden,” Roman said sagely, “So I know when something’s off. I think you missed a few around my mouth and chin, but I doubt anyone else would notice.” 

“I would--” Eden grumbled, fighting the itch to go back and fix it--instead letting his face revert back. 

Roman rolled his eyes, “Ever the perfectionist,” he said, “What? Are you going to memorize every inch of my body--”

“Of course,” Eden said without missing a beat.

“I…” Roman gaped, wide eyed,“Are you serious?”

“Why…” Eden realized, his eyes narrowing with a calculated smile, “Why of course, I have to. It’s an intimate act, afterall Roman, what do you expect?” 

“W-well,” Roman couldn’t look away, “It doesn’t always have to be, right-”

“Maybe so, but,” Eden said, interlocking their hands with a bastard grin, “It’s my first time. I want it to be...perfect.” 

“I hate this, I hate you,” Roman whined, rose buds popping up in his hair, “Go back to being grouchy--and broody, Goddess be damned.” 

“You’re still holding my hand,” Eden said pointedly.

“I can multitask.” 

\---

The door was oddly foreboding. 

It was a pristine, sterile white. Even in the hallway the distinct sting of clean was in Virgil’s nose and watering his eyes. Normally the medic bay was bustling with apprentices and careless mentors, but today it was quiet and the door was closed. The offerings and all that nonsense was getting prepped afterall. But instead of helping with preparations or even being on a mission, Virgil was here.

He was trying to force words out of his dry throat, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door and apologize. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a chance before, these long weeks of watching Patton lay there. Simply lay there, his skin dull of any light and his eyes--when they finally opened-- weak and resigned. 

“You’re safe.” Was the only thing Patton had managed to say while being there. 

As if it was a miracle that Virgil was hardly scathed, as if Patton had not nearly been crushed to death getting Virgil out of the way. As if he hadn’t trusted every warning Virgil gave without hesitation —as if he hadn’t trusted Virgil without hesitation only to get suspicion in return. 

Virgil’s suspicion was irrational—it was always irrational, but Virgil could never shake it. Even now, when Patton was basically out of commission, he felt dread coil tight in his gut at the thought of being friendly.

Patton had basically saved his life, yet Virgil couldn’t trust him. Like how he could couldn’t fully trust Logan, like he could never fully trust Dr. Picani, like how he couldn’t trust himself when remembering that day. When the river ran cold between his finger tips, only the burning of the vial keeping him awake. 

Keeping him vigilant. 

Reminding him that while he got lucky that time there was always a chance he would come back—

He’s panicking. 

He needs to breathe. He’s in the medical wing, the obnoxiously white medical wing. He can taste clean on his tongue and most importantly he was safe. 

He can apologize. 

So he opened that white door, and was greeted with a white, empty bed. He didn’t even bother to read the note Logan had left behind.


	10. How to Love a Forest Fire

Brown hair fell to the ground, the scissors snipping the final burned patches from Eden’s head. And he...stared, he wasn’t sure what he was staring at. Maybe at the new scars that littered his skin, maybe at the dark curtain that swallowed half his face whole, only one slitted eye blinking back. It was probably the scales. 

“Eden?”

Eden flinched, seeing Roman appear in the mirror beside him, or maybe he was already there--Eden wasn’t sure, he could never be sure. 

“Did I scare you?” Roman’s face was lined with worry. 

“Does it matter?” Eden snapped, feeling that anger flood him all at once. It skimmed the surface, feeling it sharp on his tongue-- 

“Yes it matters,” Roman said, his words soft, far too soft, “I care about you.” 

At those words, Eden felt a weight settle on him, the scissors slipping from his fingers and he sighed into his hands, “And why would you do a god-awful thing like that.” he said, with a particular cruelness, “I get that I was a new shiny thing when we first met, but I’d honestly would’ve thought you’d get bored of it by now.” 

The color washed from, Roman’s face and he stepped away, “We’re partners, Eden,” Roman said, tone clipped, “ I thought…” he shook his head, “Excuse me if I displayed any unnecessary concern,” he turned on his heel, “Dinners ready, asshole.” 

And for some reason, that didn’t lift the weight at all. 

\---

Eden couldn’t exactly ignore Dot’s stare. 

She normally blinked, or in her case mimicked blinking, out of habit of being around humans, but tonight she didn’t even bother doing that. Her wide eyes watching Eden carefully eat the grounded mush she made and wince at the strong bite of whatever the hell drink the Stranger came back with. Eden also couldn’t ignore the painfully empty space next to him where Roman normally sat. 

He tried. 

“It’ll be a full moon soon,” She said, gazing out the window as if she could pierce the crisp shadows of the caves to remark on the sky itself. 

Eden followed her gaze, bored, “And I should care, why?” he said, pushing around a suspiciously shaped thing in the mush. 

She made an odd clicking sound, “Honestly that man,” she said, shaking her head, “I should’ve expected that he didn’t tell you. He’s so touchy nowadays,” she made a show of closing her eyes, “But unlike him, I have no reason to stress you out unnecessarily, so I guess there’s no harm in telling...tomorrow perhaps. ” 

“Tell me what…?” Eden asked, tense. It wouldn’t be the first time the Stranger “forgot” to tell him something. It was always fucking terrible. 

“How far along are you in your history?” She asked, changing the subject. 

“Somewhere after the mass extinction of Unicorns, but before the first humans.” He said, expression grim.

She matched his grim expression, “Condolences.” she offered, “But, that is when magic folk first began, so it is necessary--no matter how dreadfully boring it all is. It’s important since most of what we know of the Goddess when she was awake comes from that period.” she continued and Eden dropped his utensils knowing it was probably going to be a lengthy one.

“The Aleseners, Sanders, among many others--- were among the first and it was a prosperous time, but the Goddess grew bored and slept.”

“I thought they didn’t know why she slept,” Eden commented.

“Old men claim they don’t know a lot of things,” Dot retorted, “We may not know why she slept, but it was quite obvious that she was quite prideful in her creations and that was somewhat connected.”

“There are numerous songs and accounts recording how she preened with each folk, with Aleseners she loved how we glittered, how we were always watching her. With Sanders she adored their songs and how they matched her voice-- making the earth alive of her greatness. With the watch-dogs, she would often bring stars closer to Earth, to watch their skin light ablaze with energy---and so on--,” she said, the story flashing through her eyes with the care and intensity of one who studied a subject for hours for the same answers.

“But,” she said, “One day she created humans--by mistake most likely. Creatures who don’t look like her, don’t sound like her, and worst of all, don't acknowledge her one bit--not even in the most primal of ways--and--” her voice was strained, “They fascinated her, but we didn’t understand---we obsessed over it, we argued over it, but we never asked. ” She paused for a moment, “I don’t think we wanted the answer.”

“Why do you think that?” Eden said, trying to sound bored.

“It was a different time, an extremely political time, where a lot of old families were used to being cared for by the Goddess. ” She sighed, “No one wanted to admit that she didn’t love us anymore, they still don’t even as we’re dying off,” she stirred her own mush, “And I don't blame them either, it does hurt to acknowledge something you don’t understand yourself.” she mused, nostalgic. 

“Doesn’t…” Eden frowned “Doesn’t it seem like they wasted a lot of time,” his nose curled, “Why not ask and get it over with?” 

“Yes...that sounds like a brilliant idea,” Dot scooped up her mush, with a pleased grin, “Sanders is on the roof, darling.” she pinned him with an expectant gaze. 

Eden inhaled, sharp, “Point taken.” 

\---

Roman’s legs hung off the stone roof. He let the distant village lights wash over him trying to resist the tell-tale pull off sleep, most likely the Stranger was back from whatever he was doing. 

He threw his shawl back over his shoulders, before freezing, “How did you get up here?” he balked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Eden winced. 

“Why am I not surprised,” Roman muttered, rolling his eyes. He didn’t invite Eden to sit down, but he didn’t protest when they did. Their shoulders brushing, legs pressed close, but their hands barely touching--normally they would be touching. 

It was so odd how normal it had become. 

“Are you mad?” Eden asked in a way that you knew it was a question, but you didn’t know what he was really asking. 

“What do you think?”

“I think…” Eden started, and Roman was painfully aware of his stare, “That you’re upset. I know that I was an asshole, but I don’t know what I did differently this time--then any other time.” 

“I…” Roman frowned, “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” He said, “I know I’ve made jokes, but...Do you really think I’m only playing around with you? That’ll I’ll get bored?” 

“Sometimes I do,” Eden admitted, it’s truth unpleasant and heavy on his tongue as he watched Roman’s face crumple, “But I expect that from everyone. I’m not exactly known for my pleasant and engaging personality.”

“I think you’re pleasant,” Roman defended—promptly forgetting his role of being upset at at Eden. 

Eden raised an eyebrow at that, “Visually, maybe,” he said dry. 

Romans eyes shot wide, and he sputtered, “Not like that, I don’t think you’re—I mean—“ 

“You don’t think I’m attractive?” Eden cocked his head, disbelieving,” Are you that deep in denial, Roman?” 

“I’m a gentleman.”

“You make an obscene amount of dick jokes.” 

“I make a reasonable amount of dick jokes, but--” Roman sighed, “When someone brings up you being … you always seemed…” Roman was unsure, “I guess I didn’t know if you were uncomfortable with it or...bored?” 

Eden raised an eyebrow at that, “Why bother though?” He said,“Again—I’m entirely unpleasant.” 

“I wouldn’t say entirely, but you have your moments. You’re reliable and It's been awhile since I could rely on anyone.” Roman looked embarrassed, “That makes me sound desperate, doesn’t it? But with you, I guess I kinda am...” 

“Still…” Eden said, quiet, a foul taste clung to his throat, but he continued regardless, “I don’t have feelings for you, I’m only following orders.” 

Roman’s laugh was breathless, “I’m fine with that,” he said, legs kicking in a carefree manner, “I’m not a very smart man, Eden, If this is the only way to have your company...I’ll   
take it.” 

“You-I--” Eden groaned, “Christ--You can’t sa-- You’re a fucking mashochist.” he said, his chest warm as he looked away, “Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.” 

Shoulders brushing, legs pressed close--the hard stone roof digging into them uncomfortably, hands not touching--normally they’d be touching. But it was fine if they weren’t. 

It was fine if Roman was stuck playing student with the Stranger forever, even if he knew it was another stupid game, another stupid councilman seeking answers where he shouldn’t. It was fine if he wasn’t the smartest son, it was fine if he wasn’t the strongest. 

All he wanted was to cling onto these feelings a little while longer. Cling onto trust, cling onto breathing deeper breaths, cling onto Eden a little while longer before it all goes to shit. 

He’s fine. 

\---

Logan meditated among the rock for a long time, the sun crept and plunged into the horizon for days on end, him unmoving. Patton faithfully at his side. It was a brewing type contemplation, not one of patience. It was merely building, stirring, and becoming a bitter tune on his lips. When he opened his eyes, he stretched his legs and met the ancient gaze of the caves before him. 

It took him awhile to convince the mountain to comply, but he had done it. 

He made the needed adjustments.


	11. Don't Go Breaking My Heart

Eden had gotten back from his morning routine, slick with sweat and body aching as he entered the lonesome stone home. He hoped the Stranger wasn’t here yet so he could squeeze in a bath and maybe a nap--damn he needed a nap. The home was quiet, but that wasn’t new. 

Eden sniffed the air, lip curling, "Dot must be experimenting with onions," he groaned, staggering into the room he shared with Roman.

Inside red hair peek out of a mountain of blankets. Eden picked his way through the new stack of books in the corner and the newest list of ingredients/ formulas to memorize. 

Fun.

Eden begrudgingly checked the phone’s clock, before glancing back at the pile of blankets, “Roman…” he called, seeing the pile go deathly still. 

Rolling his eyes, he approached the blankets, “Roman get up--you have lessons,” he said, yanking the blankets off, “Get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Roman whined, curling into the pillows further, using his shawl to cover his arms, “Come back to bed--it’s too early for this.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Yes, it was, “You’re being a baby--Don’t you have lessons with Dot to get ready for?” Eden scolded, mainly because if he couldn’t get a second of fucking rest no one in this house is allowed to get a second of fucking rest.

Roman rolled onto his back, propping his head up, “Dot’s not even here,” he sniffed, only mildly entertaining the idea of getting up as he only opened one eye, “She left sometime last night--the Stranger too.” his face scrunched up, "Or maybe it was this morning, there was a lot of noise..." 

“They’re probably on an errand, they’ll be back soon,” Eden said, getting exasperated when Roman flopped back down to sleep, “Get. Up.”

“Fine.” Roman pouted, both eyes opening now, “Can you pick me up? The curse is still pretty strong from the last time the Stranger was here,” he sniffed, batting his eyes and everything like Eden was a fool.

Eden sighed, taking Roman’s hand and bending down. Not because he was a fool, but because Roman is persistent and it always wastes more time then it’s worth sometimes. 

What made him a fool was that he didn’t see the gleam in Roman’s eye before it was too late. Roman wasn’t physically stronger then Eden by any means, but he was crafty--hooking around Eden’s legs at the exact right time to catch him off balance. Before Eden could even protest, Roman had somehow had him pinned and swallowed by a sea of blankets with some Roman feeling arms snug around Eden’s waist. 

“I have work to do,” Eden complained, feeling the warmth creep up on him. Roman had him pulled tight to their chest, easily resting their chin on Eden’s head.

Eden sagged despite himself, “I’m still sweaty,” he weakly warned.

“Mmm, I don’t care,” Roman said, voice still rough from sleep, rolling pleasantly through Eden like a lullaby, “You're tired, I’m tired, let’s nap a bit.”

“They’ll be back soon and…” Eden was slurring, “...and I’m not,” he yawned, “...taking… shit from the ass for a… a…. nap.”

“If he yells at you again, I’ll handle it,” Roman said, cooly. 

“I can...I can handle my….” Eden yawned again, eyes drooping close. 

“I know you can,” Roman smiled, curling into Eden’s back, “I’ll wake you up in thirty,” he promised, even though Eden was already well on his way to being asleep.

\---

The Stranger wasn’t surprised when he woke up in the Chambers, irritated--yes, but not surprised. He was drained of magic, his glasses were taken away, and all he could smell was the sharpness of the air and see the bleakness of the four white walls. 

He’d stolen a lot of things, but this would certainly be the most consequential. Stealing a Sanders is one thing, but attempting to make the council look like the fools they are? He’d be executed, surely and he’d laugh the whole way there. But... he knew they’d gotten Dot too. She wasn’t fragile, but the last time they were in the Chambers was still fresh even though decades had passed. Even if she had agreed to get involved one last time. 

The Stranger wouldn’t blame her, if she attempted to kill him again.

-

Dot was going to kill him, immortality be damned. 

\---

Eden ached as soft, slender hands carted through his hair, pulling him from sleep. The tendernesses washed over him, as the hands were oh so carefully, prodding his face--wary of the scales that marred Eden. 

He could hear Roman singing that lullaby. His words a low murmur that swept the room and drew the Earth’s attention. Roman thought Eden didn’t know what the story meant, but he knew enough to know it wasn’t the nanny that sang it to Roman. 

At least, not in the beginning. 

While learning to shift, Eden had to get really familiar with memories and that lullaby’s memory was strong enough that you could taste it. So strong, Roman probably didn’t even know he uses his magic so sweetly when singing it. As if inviting the earth to dance, to linger, to celebrate. As is if he was inviting Eden. 

It made Eden angry. 

It made him… scared. 

It was going to be just like before, soft hands, soft words, eyes that stung with distrust. Of accusation so frantic, it made everything afterwards a regretful blurr. 

But who could blame them? 

Eden did exactly what they all expected. He knew why their eyes followed him, followed his mom. If he wasn’t nothing, he was a threat. He’d inevitably be the villain. And he was--

“Eden,” Roman said curious, “You’re awake,” he laughed,“You overslept by three minutes--you’re really slacking nowadays.” 

“You’re a bad influence,” Eden grumbled, sitting up, and checking the phone. 

No messages, no orders. 

“What other influence do I have to be?” Roman asked reclined in a manner that made it hard to forget that he’s had people feed him like that. 

Roman’s hair was braided close to his head and trailed down to his shoulders. His clothes carelessly put on--shawl garishly out of place yet fitting, his crown of horns dimly glinting in the room’s low light. 

Eden rolled his eyes, pulling an especially thick book out of the nearby stack to read.

“No-” Roman whined, “C’mon you get a day off and the first thing you do is more work?”

“You read for fun,” Eden said, not looking up from the page. He grimmaced and pulled out a smaller, more worn book to begin translating the garbled english and whatever the fuck that symbol was in the corner. 

“It’s not the same thing,” Roman huffed, “I enjoy those. Do you honstly enjoy--” he squinted at the book’s spine, “What the fuck does that even say.”

“I have no clue.” Eden said, feeling all life drain from him.

“Okay,” Roman said, pushing the book away and planting themselves on Eden’s lap, “We’re going swimming, and you’re going to have fun.” 

“Sounds fantastic,” Eden saidm dry, “What a splendid idea Roman.”

“Really?” Roman said, bright eyed as he hooked his arms around Eden’s shoulders. 

“No. Not really,” Eden said, “We’re thousands of feet underground, Roman, where do you expect to find water?” 

\---

“He found water--he actually,” Eden gaped, before shaking his head, “He’s a demigod--of course he could.” He still had the intense need to sit down.

One couldn’t say it looked like traditional water, the water was unnaturally clear from any of the murkiness and grime found in other parts of the cave. And freed from any of the little beasts. Eden was suspicious Roman had persuaded it a bit, but it did look nice…

Roman had waded into the water, dress hiked, and… he looked back before slipping the shawl from his shoulders and setting it aside. His wings were faint shimmers molded to the arch of his spine. He tilted his head up, eyes closed, lips curved sweetly as he stretched. 

“You coming?” Roman asked, giggling. 

Eden sighed. 

It did look nice.

\---

Roman screamed as Eden snatched him by the waist, hoisting him over his shoulders and promptly dumping him in the water. 

Roman sputtered, flinging his wet braids from his eyes, “Fuck you.” he growled.

An equally drenched Eden, flipped him off, “You started it.”

“I didn’t start shit,” Roman lied through his teeth. He picked at the dress, peeling the top half down to his waist, “Dot is going to kill us.”

Eden, who had long since tossed his dress, had already accepted that, “Shame,” he drawled, wadding to the rocks, “The white looked nice on you.” 

“Aw, thanks I--” Roman’s voice trailed off as Eden hoisted himself onto the rocks and okay he was staring a bit. He wasn’t subtle. 

“Are you objectifying me?” Eden raised an eyebrow. 

“Appreciating,” Roman corrected wading to the rocks as well, “But yeah a little bit,” he leaned against the wall, looking up with a pleading expression.

Eden helped him up, “How did you ever survive without me?”

“Oh,” Roman snickered, “Only with about several hundred servants.”

“That’s horrible,” Eden groaned, “You’re a rich bastard, you know that right?” 

“Oh, it’s not like I have any of that now,” Roman rolled his eyes and Eden was tempted to shove him back into the water, “The council confiscated everything, so all the watchdog’s were sent back home. They took the houses, the money, and my… family.” The playfulness was gone. 

“How…” Eden leaned on Roman’s shoulder, frowning, “How old are your sisters?”

Roman seemed surprised, “Uh...the oldest one right now is 16,” he said, “The youngest three…. Father spoiled them rotten,” he grabbed for his shawl, wings disappearing again.

“That’s a pretty big age gap.”

Roman gasped, “I’m not that old,” he said shoving Eden. 

“No--” Eden smiled, “I think I saw a couple of grey hairs in your comb this morning--that’s pretty old.”

“My hair’s the only thing I have going for me you bastard--You’re lying--you’re lying--” Roman stuck his fingers in his ear, “Lalalala, you’re lying.” 

“My specialty,” Eden said, he narrowed his eyes searching, “Where did the phone go?” he asked, and Roman shrugged, “You’re feeling fine right? The curse isn’t any stronger than before?” 

“Nope,” Roman said. 

Eden frowned, “But--” he tensed, “Something isn’t right. Is anyone else down here?” 

Roman closed his eyes briefly, hands on the stone, “Other then the Aleseners...no.” he said, “You don’t feel safe?”

“I,” He didn’t feel safe at all, “I’m just antsy, probably need something to do.”

“We should head back anyway,” Roman suggested, watching him carefully. 

Eden nodded. 

The only thing he should be worried about is explaining the missing phone to the Stranger. 

\---

They walked back slowly, the passage narrow, but not entirely unpleasant. Roman’s hands trailed the sides of the cave, occasionally whispering while Eden tried to salvage his dress. 

Eventually the path became familiar, and Eden knew they were close to Dot’s home.

Roman had spun around at that point, “Mmm,” he wondered, “What to do next-what to do next?”

“Maybe start your lessons?” Eden suggested, already mentally preparing himself for the book from hell. 

“Nah,” Roman said. Because of course, “If Dot still isn’t here I don't see a point--” He stopped abruptly, and Eden bumped into him, “Did you grow fangs? When?”

“What--” Eden’s hands flew to his mouth.

“Well damn,” Roman seemed weirdly enthralled, and Eden didn’t stop him from tilting his head up so they could get a better look, “I have a... couple of ideas we could do now--”

“You want to kiss me because of fangs, Really?” 

“I was going to suggest you bite me, but I mean I’m down for that too,” Roman’s grin was sharp, as he traced the fanged points.

“What,” Eden batted Roman’s hands away, “What.”

“It isn’t like they’re going to pierce my skin or anything--” Roman shrugged, “Kissing is nice and all, but I still want to see if they’re venomous.” 

“No.” Eden hissed. Partly upset because Roman’s that fucking weird and partly upset because, well are they vemous? 

“To the kissing or the biting?” Roman asked, matter of fact. He was close to Eden, his skin burning and fingers still barely brushing against Eden’s chest, “Cause I don’t mind...” 

“To both, ” Eden said, and Roman looked puzzled. 

Eden knew it was a bad idea, but something about how careless Roman was being about it made it seem even worse, “I wouldn’t want to lead you on.”

Why doesn’t it bother Roman? Even if it wasn’t romantic, why was Roman okay with it? The idea really did make Eden sick. He wasn't sure if it was the realization that he wasn’t messing around with someone’s physical attraction but their actual feelings or that Roman was so willing to--

“It’s not that serious. It’s just--” Roman stuttered as Eden reaches up to cradle Romans face, “A bit of… fun.”

“Fun?” Eden echoed, making sure he was looking Roman dead in the eye, “You know I don’t have feelings for you, right?” 

“I know.”

“Do you?” Eden asked, his fingers tracing up Roman’s face, he felt them go lax, “How far would you let me go for a little “fun” ?” he mused. 

“As far as you want,” Roman said, burning underneath Eden’s hands. Vines trailing hot around his throat.

“As far as I want?” Eden repeated. He inhaled, forcing his eyes to stop slitting, —forcing himself to stop trying to remember Roman like this. 

Roman nodded, small flowers popping up in his hair. 

“And,” Eden let that cruel tune play again, “No strings attached, right? Your feelings don’t have to mean anything to me?” Roman didn’t respond, Eden’s hands dipping lower and lower, “Is that really what you want?”

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give…” Roman’s voice cracked, him tucking his face in Eden’s shoulder, “Even if… even if you don’t… I deserve it.” 

“Roman,” Eden hugged them, tight, “You deserve more.” he said, “But right now, I can’t give you that,” it washed over him all at once, and it wasn’t anger, or fear, it was--“I want to, but I can’t,” he admitted, and Roman looked up startled, “If I was more selfish, I’d ask you to wait, but I won’t.” 

“You want…?” Roman was crying, but his smile--that smile, “It’s not because the Stranger ordered you to?” 

“No,” the truth was foreign at this point, “Surprisingly enough, I enjoy spending time with you,” he said, and Roman giggled pulling away, “Right now, let’s try being friends, alright?” 

Eden could handle that for now. Eden could trust the soft words a little more, because he couldn’t stand the thought of lying about it any further. At least to Roman. He couldn’t stand the thought of Roman giving his all, only to get scraps in return. 

Roman twirled his hair in his hands, eyes soft,“I like the sound of tha-” he choked on air.

“Roman!” Eden reached for him, but flinched as their head lolled revealing two blank eyes. Eden took a step back, his senses now in overdrive, trying to figure out how, when, who, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t think fast enough. Like a plague, the white rapidly spread across Roman’s skin, painting over his freckles, painting over his smile until he was... stone. 

Roman had turned to stone, right in front of him and the bitter truth, the terrible truth, the nauseatingly pitiful truth was that there was nothing Eden could’ve done to stop it. There is nothing he could do to stop it, the truth breathed into him and it was nasty. 

He believed it, he didn’t care, he refused to listen.

\---

“It worked?” Patton seemed surprised

“Of course it worked, I thought of it,” Logan said, even though he was surprised himself.

It was rather hard to cut off the ‘offical’ council bonding once you have it, even for a temporary amount of time. And it was dangerous if Roman found them before the curse reactivated in full. 

It wasn’t one of his best plans, but it certainly wasn’t stupid. 

Logan motioned for Patton to pick up the statue, the two teleporting away easily. After that Logan turned around. He adjusted his glasses, staring into the darkness, “Please don’t bother with that, I know you’re here.”

His vision--no the rocks rippled a bit. Barely a shine there, but Logan knew he had their attention,“You’re Eden, correct?” he asked, flipping through his notebook, the photograph burned into his memory, because of course it was Eden, who else could it be--

“No, I’m not,” And like that- Logan’s reality shattered. 

“I took his name, his face, but I’m not him,” the darkness explained.

The ripples shine gradually took shape. What that shape was, Logan couldn’t tell. The shadows splotched with his scales. The only vaguely human thing about him were his eyes. As if reading his thoughts, their eyes slitted into a striking yellow. 

A shifter-- pretty rare-- Logan assessed. It would be foolish to believe them entirely, but Logan did want some answers. His magic was pretty exhausted, so trying to contain them like Roman might prove to be troublesome. And he didn’t have the proper papers to arrest him either, nor probable cause other than his alleged association with the Stranger--but even that wasn’t completely verified or documented--

Every part of Logan said to leave him, even the logical parts. There was no civilization down here and he couldn’t get out himself, not without losing something in the process. Logan could easily leave this ghost here to die, even if he wasn’t what almost killed Virgil. It was better safe than sorry, but he knew he couldn't leave them… Dr. Picani would be upset. And he would know if Logan was lying, he always knew. 

Logan pursed his lips, “What is your name, then?” he asked, even more exhausted. Dr. Picani was going to have a field day knowing that he’d have some new kid to fret over, questionable intentions or not. 

The shifter smiled, “Tell me where Roman is and I might find one.” 

...Interesting. 

“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” Logan dismissed that thought for now, holding out a hand, “You don’t have much of a choice but to come with me. There isn’t much else down here. Your mentors have been taken into custody, and you hardly have the abilities necessary to get out of here alone. ”

The shifter glanced away, like he knew something Logan didn’t--which is a ridiculous thought, before taking his hand. 

\---

Eden’s eyes were piercing as he let himself be engulfed in light.


	12. Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! make sure you check the updated tags and if you have any questions about warnings just ask in the comments

Emile wasn’t overly fond of the Chambers. 

Some might even describe him as immensely uncomfortable by its endless, blinding whiteness. One might even make the presumption that he even disapproved of its almost deafening solitude and how it could silence even the loudest and unruliest prisoners with the flash of a key. But those are assumptions, ones that relied on the opinion that Emile sought the best for his prisoners, which he did under certain circumstances. 

He strolled across that emptiness, the only indicator that he was moving being the distinct clacking of his leather oxford shoes and the jingle of his thirteen keys in hand. He passed the occasional Council member, but they didn’t talk or linger. Not even the passing nod. It wasn’t like Emile wasn’t on friendly terms with other Council members it was simply the Chambers. It was not a place for passing nods or chit-chat, it was oppressive with the crimes of the prisoners and the ones who turn the keys.

Emile took his keys, feeling their weight even as he flipped through them effortlessly. Their weathered metal warm as he raised one key to the blank expanse and turned, a lock clicking. A door opening. 

Inside was more blankness, but of a different kind. A bright face now materialized in front of him, the Guard’s shadow’s sinking into reality. 

“Dr. Picani!” The Guard greeted him, his words muffled. 

Emile regarded the Guard, uneasy, noting the stubble patching across their blank face and the slightly asymmetrical tilt of their head. Almost like they had a personality. 

They must be new here. 

“Oh, hello, “ Emile answered politely, gesturing to the white door beside the Guard, “He hasn’t been giving you any more trouble, has he? He’s rash from what I’ve heard from the nurses.” 

The guard shook his head, face still an unreadable mask, but movements lively, “No, no--well I mean,” He scratched his head, “Deceit’s a tricky one, kinda rude too--Do I sound like a middle-aged Divorcee who ignores their kids' concerns in favor of idealizing the adoration I received from them when they were younger? Do you think that’s what my past life was?” 

Emile ignored the question, “Deceit?” he frowned, “I’m afraid I don’t know them?”

The guard caught on, “Oh that’s what we call him!” he explained, scratching his jaw, “He doesn’t respond to any names and he changes faces often, both girl’s n’ guys--Though he doesn’t like changing his pronouns all that much--- ”

“Interesting,” Emile sighed, “Anyways... I’m here to do the interview, so if you may…” he nodded stiffly towards the door.

The Guard’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly in agreement, knocking on the door.

The White Door swung open, the Guard was now gone. Emile stepped inside, the door disappearing soon after leaving him in silence. 

Deceit sat in the corner of the room, perfectly silent as well, and almost blending seamlessly into the room if not for the soft glow of his slitted, yellow eyes.

Emile did not let this unnerve him. He did not falter, striding the room in front of where he presumed them to be and waving a hand, a chair appearing.

Emile sat down, throwing on his brightest smile, “Do you how do, I’m Dr. Emile Picani and I’ll be conducting your interview for today,” His fingers twitched and a second chair appeared right across from him, “It’s nice to finally meet you son.” 

Deceit watched from the floor. 

“Now, I know we’re strangers, but I doubt that's comfortable,” Emile raised a playful eyebrow and Deceit stared impassive, “Now, son… I understand, this,” He gestured to the Nothing, “ Is a lot to take in, but I’m here to discuss your options not to interrogate you.” 

“Then why won’t y’all tell me where Roman is?” Deceit said, squinting unimpressed.

“Roman’s situation is different from yours,” Emile explained softly, “His family’s activity is concerning and requires an investigation. An investigation that needs the Heir’s full cooperation, but as you might have seen… Roman has remained uncooperative.” 

“Yeah,” Deceit snorted, “No shit," his eyes floated from the corner of the room, not yet sitting down, but at least he was standing. He was...pacing?

Emile clicked his pen, “Would it make you comfortable if I answered any other Roman related questions first? While I can’t promise I can answer all of them I--”

All at once, Deceit appeared in the chair, “Where. Is. He.” He growled, all teeth. 

Though Emile was certain they weren’t his, the form he’d taken was flawless at first glance--almost identical to the head nurse Mrs. Tae. Yet anyone who’s seen her on the daily would recognize the foreignness of the dimples in her cherub cheeks and how Deceit’s anger seemed to bleed and sharpen her soft shoulders and intensify her doe, brown eyes. 

“He’s safe,” Emile said immediately, Deceit’s relief hesitant, but visible, “Normally he’s kept at the estate, but his latest… escape has put a strain on his already pre-existing health conditions. He needs supervision and he needs to recover.” 

Deceit slumped in the chair, “He’s… sick?” Deceit’s face soured, but mostly he looked...confused, “Was he always…?” he swallowed thick. 

“He’s been sick for a very long time,” Emile said, “Though it isn’t my place to tell you any more than that,” Emile pulled out a small notebook and began writing. 

“So what can you tell me?” Deceit said, disgusted with how small his voice sounded, with how he felt everything draining away from him all at once. 

“That he’s being cared for,” Emile offered, “And that we’ll take care of you too, as long as you cooperate,” 

“And why would you do that?” Deceit scowled. 

He didn’t trust it one bit.

“You could say I feel personally responsible,” Emile admitted, “I’ve known the Stranger and his...habits for a long time. Longer than most. I should’ve stepped in earlier…” Emile sighed, “He has put you through a lot hasn’t he?” he said, “And… you’re young, Deceit. You still have a chance, while he threw him away a long time ago. He’s paying for that now. You’re safe and I want to make a deal with you.”

“Cause that worked out so well the first time around.” Deceit drawled, rolling his eyes. 

“And that,” Emile gestured with his pen, “Is precisely why we must try again.” 

\---

Dr. Picani’s training hall was simple compared to most other Council Members. Most preferred to… borrow the aesthetics of a significant, war centric historical period, but Dr. Picani’s was relatively modern if that word had any real standing. 

Meaning that there was electricity, but it didn’t work the way that you thought it should. There were weights and showers, but none of the fancy computers you could normally find in “Younger” council members. Dr. Picani did have a preference for pastels and an obscene amount of windows, but at least it wasn’t a fucking collesium. 

Virgil ignored his throbbing headache, strapping on his leg braces. He ignored Logan and Patton as they came in---Logan because fuck him and his stupid note. Patton because Virgil was still terrible and couldn’t muster the courage to apologize like before. They all went through their warm-up routines. 

Separately. 

Silently.

It was suffocating. Virgil’s skin crawled thinking about how dinner was going to be, but he didn't linger on that thought for long as the doors opened with a flourish, the distinct tap of Dr. Picani’s shoes following as he strode into the room looking all too bright for this early in the morning. 

“Good Morning lovelies!” He cheered, “Did you all get a good night’s rest?” Various groans responded, “Fantastic. Well, today we’re doing something special,” Patton excused himself to get water, “Think of it... like a bit of challenge…” Virgil’s face fell flat, scowling, “Some friendly competition.” Logan cursed. 

“Oh don’t be like that, “ Dr. Picani scolded, smoothing his collar, “My surprise guests aren’t that bad...And,” He looked between Logan and Virgil critically, “You are in the need for a bit of bonding. It’ll be great!” 

Virgil’s eyes turned predatory, spotting his face rapidly as small beady orbs, “The sonofabitch Kai set me on fire, Picani. Fire!” he hissed from his corner. 

“No name-calling, Virgil,” Emile frowned, “And Kai...he apologized.”

“I don’t even know why they keep him around, it’s obvious he hates this place--”

“Virgil, that’s none of your business, be nice,” Emile said, ignoring Virgil’s hushed mocking, he turned his attention to Logan, “Any opinions you want to express before our guest is ready?’ 

Logan sucked in sharp, “Kai also set me on fire,” he said, finishing up his stretches, “It was unpleasant. I’d prefer to avoid a repeat,” 

Emile deflated, “Yes of course…” he muttered, “Deceit, come in.” 

“You called?” A voice said.

It took a few seconds for them to register the fact that space next to Emile was no longer empty. A short, black-haired…. Girl…? Glinted into existence all at once, her frayed black dress seemed to swallow her. 

Virgil was the first to recover, “Who the fuck is she?” he bit out, peeling himself from the wall

Deceit flipped him off. 

“Not she,” Emile corrected, pushing Deceit’s hand down, “This is Deceit. He will be staying with us for a few...days.” 

Logan and Virgil exchanged exasperated looks before Virgil caught himself. Virgil crossed his arms, “Is this the same Deceit you picked up from the Stranger?” he raised an eyebrow, “Y’know, the same one we--” He scoffed, “they found canoodling with Roman Sanders, y’ know the criminal.” 

“Canoodling?” Deceit echoed, confused. 

They ignored him, “He’s technically not a criminal,” Logan corrected, “He’s never gone to trial, so it’s an odd classifica--”

“What? Now you're defending him because his little boyfriend’s here,” Virgil sucked his teeth, not amused, “Grow a pair.”

“Virgil,” Emile warned. 

“That’s...highly uncalled for,” Logan looked defeated.

“So was leaving me behind,” Virgil snapped, “You didn’t even bother telling me to my face--you just left,” 

“I left you a note,” 

“I left you a note,” Virgil mocked, unimpressed, “I’m getting water,” he said stiffly, leaving before Emile could protest. 

Logan looked over to Emile to ask him if he should go get them, but Emile was already gone with a flash of light. Leaving Deceit and Logan alone.

I guess that’s their cue to spar. 

\---

“Do you know the rules?” Logan said, settling into a stance on the mat.

Deceit stretched his arms, an audible crack echoing, “Rules?” 

Logan pursed his lips, “Yes, rules,” he said, “What? Did the Stranger not train you?” 

“He trained me, “Deceit said, words clipped “Not with humans though.” 

“I’m not human,” Logan snapped.

Interesting. 

Deceit took the time to look at him. 

Exceedingly practical in every meaning of the word with the same generic gym clothes Emile attempted to give Deceit. His eyes were silver in the same way Roman’s were, but his hair wasn’t as bright. The dull, red locs the faintest of grey at the ends--odd considering he was younger than Roman. Even more odd was the fact that Deceit could see scars. 

He may not be human, but he was certainly more human than Roman. 

“Sure. “ Deceit said, falling into a stance easily mimicking Logan’s own, and Logan tensed, “Easy now, darling I don’t bite. “ he rolled his shoulders carelessly, “What are these rules?”

Logan relaxed a bit, “Yes, well, first of all, there is no biting,” he recited, the familiarity of the words comforting, “You can use any limb at your disposal, but try to refrain from drawing blood or being unnecessarily cruel. Whoever pins the other for 30 seconds is the winner.”

“Oh, vague. Perfect. Magic?” Deceit asked, glancing to the side a bit surprised.

Logan followed his gaze, “It’s allowed, though it isn't the purpose of these--” 

Deceit had already disappeared. 

Wonderful.

Logan focused, ignoring everything and listening to everything. Watching. Waiting. Going over what he did know about Deceit. 

Logan knew Deceit’s shifts were imperfect. If only Logan had a stronger connection to the Goddess then he’d know exactly what that imperfection was with a glance. Not even a glance, he would just know. The ability to Know was something he wasn’t naturally gifted in, but he trained. He mimicked with books, with knowledge, and anal attention to detail, but you couldn’t fake a bond that strong, he couldn’t be Ro--No, focus. 

He watched the long, creeping shadows in the training room. 

Then he struck. 

Logan caught the raised fist of Deceit. The air sparked, Deceit’s scales glinting angrily as Logan twisted their arm behind them. Deceit struggled. He was relentless and Logan grunted, digging his heels in, trying to shift his weight enough to pin him. 

Deceit twisted unnaturally, their head reeling back and slamming into Logan’s. Pain shot hot across his forehead and Logan gasped, sprawling back as Deceit stumbled out of his grip. Logan staggered to his feet, eyes dotting with black and glasses askew. 

Deceit caught himself fast, but his shift still suffered, the dainty shoulders now broader and all-around less human. His pinched face now a fuzzy mess of splotches of scales and skin. 

Someone that size shouldn’t be able to knock Logan off his feet without finessing, but Deceit did not finesse. He smashed into Logan without hesitating like he could afford to take the hit. Deceit was stronger than Logan thought, even without magic. 

That was fucking concerning. 

Logan assessed, then reassessed as Deceit’s form settled. Still short, even though he easily could gain an advantage with both height and his natural strength. Logan made a quick and likely bullshit assumption that Deceit probably didn’t have much experience being tall and that he didn’t want to throw off his center of balance too much. Which meant that Deceit had to get used to these bodies. Which means Logan had a chance.

Logan didn’t let Deceit have any more time to think. He got in close and swung, Deceit nearly catching his fist with his teeth. Deceit dodged, just barely, hooking his fingers into Logan’s shoulder and pulling the other to the ground. The two hit the mat, the fight dissolving into something rather juvenile if Logan were, to be honest. 

In the End, Logan was on top. 

Sure he was slick with sweat, aching all over, and was certain that if his lungs didn’t collapse surely his heart would do its due diligence, but he fucking won. Deceit, having returned to the first form, was pinned. Logan normally wouldn’t use this specific pin on someone this small seeing as in most circumstances it would surely be overkill, but for Deceit it was infuriatingly necessary.

Logan gripped them tighter as if to emphasize this, leaning down, “Do you--” he needed to catch his breath, “ yield,” he asked.

Deceit snarled, “Fuck you,” Though his face was equally red, chest heaving. 

“You’ve been pinned. It’s been 31 seconds. I win.” Logan decided, peeling himself from Deceit, feeling all sorts of bones crack, “Now scurry along, wash up and go back to the Chambers.” he mumbled. He had a hot shower waiting for him

Deceit didn’t seem to move he seemed rather amused, somehow managing a sharp grin as he sat up rubbing his red, raw wrists. 

Logan felt an unmistakable sense of dread, “What?” he asked, “Do you enjoy losing?” 

“Oh, it’s--” Deceit snickered, eyes wide and innocent, “It’s funny. You think that’s a good thing.” he cocked his head, voice snide, “He didn’t tell you, did he? That seems to be a trend with these mentors, but Me,” he pointed to himself dramatically, "And Dr. Picani made a deal.”

Logan closed his eyes and inhaled, “And what was that deal?” 

\---

“So, what you’re saying is…” Deceit clasped his hands, “That if I beat your little prodigy the council won’t fuck with me,” he laughed, “As if I’m going to believe that.”

“So you won’t do it?” Emile asked.

“W…” Deceit paused, taking a look at the bare walls that weren’t even walls. And there was no point in staying here if Picani was telling the truth and Roman wasn’t being kept here. 

Emile’s a bastard at he knows it, 

“Fine, fuck it,” Deceit relented, “But it’s only going to embarrass you.”

Emile twirled that little pen of his, “And it’s only going to show you that you still have a lot you can learn. If you don’t win, you’ll be trained to become my apprentice, a proper apprentice. And you’ll be Logan’s partner in this year's Offerings.” 

\---

This had to be a joke. Logan always missed the punchline of those, this was a joke that this-this, criminal was pulling and Dr. Picani would clear it up. 

He just had to talk to Dr. Picani.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for anyone who's stuck around for this!! i'll be posting all the chapters for this section during this week and then i'll be taking another break to write the next chunk of chapters. 
> 
> you can check out my tumblr blog @y-all-no-thanks where i occasionally give wordcount/progress updates and where i post my fanart and other fan content. thanks again <3


	13. Because Dreaming Costs

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Logan’s eye twitched, “You didn’t even ask me,”

“This situation goes beyond you, Logan,” Emile said, “As demonstrated by your little spar, you’re the most capable of handling him.”

“Patton can handle him fine,” Logan prompted, “And that doesn’t explain why you’re taking him on as an Apprentice. He doesn’t deserve it--” Logan shut his mouth. 

Emile tensed, the leather chair squeaking, ”It is not about who deserves it,” he said, words slow, “No one deserves to serve the Goddess.”

“Yes, sir…” Logan mumbled.

“Logan, I know you’re upset about me not asking you beforehand,” Emile admitted, “But I had to act quick. He wasn’t meant to be held in the Chambers for any longer and with his magic manifesting so...fast, it would’ve been dangerous to let him go.” he said.

“Dangerous? He’s a shapeshifter?” Logan frowned, “Sure, they’re rare, but artificially they’re not impossible--”

“He isn’t artificial,” Emile said, and Logan froze, “He’s half-human, so he isn’t artificially instilled with magic the same way Virgil and I are, it’s genetic,” he opened a drawer, pulling out a particularly bulky file, “I don’t know how, but the Stranger managed to not only find a shape-shifter, but he managed to agitate their genes enough to cause a rapid manifestation of previously untapped power.” 

“Bu-But, all the shapeshifter magic folk are suppose to be--”

“Dead?” Emile offered, “Well he isn’t.” 

“But the official records--”

“Official records will and will continue to be wrong on occasion,” Emile flipped through the file, “What I’m most concerned about is how the Stranger managed to find him,” Emile sighed, “Or why he bothered to find him in the first place.” 

“You think it’s part of the Stranger’s plan?” Logan asked.

“Yes, but don’t bother trying to ask Deceit about it,” Emile warned, "Elliot already checked and Deceit doesn’t know anything about what the Stranger was planning.” 

“So...what’s my assignment?”

Emile chuckled, “To be his friend, of course.” he said, “In any other situation, Virgil would’ve had this assignment as apart of his recovery, but seeing as we are...unsure of their past relations--”

“He tried to kill Virgil.” Therefore he was better left dead.

“Hey may have tried to kill Virgil,” Emile corrected, “I was simply trying to be cautious before, but nothing is factual at this point. We have no facts, Logan, and that’s a problem,” he continued, and Logan begrudgingly nodded in agreement, “That’s why you’re handling this until we determine his threat level. I trust that you can handle this, but if you don’t trust yourself I’m willing to find someone else.” 

“Do I need to find someone else?” Emile asked.

“No sir,” Logan sighed, “I accept the assignment.”

\---

Deceit could hear singing. 

It started as a low murmur as always, Roman’s voice groggy with a hint of a laugh. Then came the touches, which Deceit didn’t mind. He was more than used to their more...needy tendencies--feeling Roman grabbing his hand, Roman tugging him, Roman, Roman. 

Always commanding Deceit’s utmost attention, the greedy bastard. 

And in the mornings, it was always the worst in the best possible way since a sleepy Roman seemed to somehow lose even more of his impulse control. Their fingers teasing Deceit’s skin, tracing his collarbone, barely a whisper around the scales and scars that crisscrossed Deceit’s body. Tangling in Deceit’s hair and brushing the burned and knotted hair. 

Always singing. 

It’s been weeks since then and Deceit woke up alone.

He could still hear Roman singing. 

Sweat slicked down his back as he woke up with a start, breath still caught somewhere between his throat and his heart. Bitter bile rose in his throat as he cleared his mind of fog, trying to remembering where he was. The room Emile put him in was relatively sparse, but in a way that felt better than the oppressive white space of ‘The Chambers’. Almost nice, with soft lights and bright plants curling at the window sill. 

Naturally, Deceit felt immensely threatened. 

He rose from the bed, fingers twitching as he adjusted his shift, smoothing the familiar shades of brown from his hair into a healthy blonde, his skin paling gradually. His gaze barely flickered to the mirror as he passed, the face of some meaningless historical figure from a book flitting by with a scowl. Before opening the door, however, he paused briefly, face-melting over the mask of scales marring half of his face. 

The doors slid open and there was Logan once again at 8:00 sharp to babysit Deceit.

He was never late and hardly early for Deceit’s mandatory appointments, yet Deceit had a strong suspicion he wasn’t accompanying Deceit to the medical wing out of the kindness of his heart. Except it wasn’t a strong suspicion, Logan told him. All curled lip and dismissive gaze, it was the first time Deceit believed he was related to Roman. 

“You look like shit,” Deceit greeted.

Logan adjusted his impeccable ironed shirt, “And you’re as eloquent as always,” he said, he offered a hand and Deceit took it. Hot white flashing before their eyes as they arrived at the Medical wing. 

Deceit didn’t wait, strolling down the stretching halls, ignoring the disgustingly clean smell of the wing. A few nurses stopped and stared, or better yet blatantly whispered about him as he passed, which was a normal occurrence every time he visited--some even go as far as wearing masks around him, but mostly they gaped. Apparently, he was “a medical anomaly” and “shouldn’t have been alive with the number of injuries he sustained in such a short period” and his favorite “ an uncooperative, gaping asshole”. 

He opened one door.

“Oh, my favorite uncooperative, gaping asshole,” Lauren greeted him cheerfully, smoothing her navy scrubs as she picked up her clipboard. She was young, really young, but Deceit’s learned not to comment on that, “Did you sleep well?” She asked. 

“It was…” _tracing his collarbone, barely a whisper around the scales and scars that crisscrossed Deceit_ , “I slept,” he said, hopping up on the table. 

Lauren’s eyebrow raised, “Insightful.”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“No,” Lauren twirled her white hair, a few strands falling in waves front of her face as she pulled out a pen from behind her ear, “Just keeping you alive, no big deal,” 

“It isn’t.”

Lauren cleared her throat at that, “That’s a yikes, dude,” she said, looking like she took a swig of something thick, “Maybe you do need therapy…”

“Don’t.” 

“Alright, alright,” She said, probably still writing it fucking down in his file, “But you gotta tell me what you dreamed of that’s got you so embarrassed.” upon seeing her cheeky-ass grin, Deceit knew that they slid from being a professional right into Lauren being nosy. 

“I’m not embarrassed.” 

“Yes you are," She scoffed, pointing with her pen towards his hair, “So you decided to become a red-head within the past thirty seconds?”

“Wh--” He reached for his hair, and yep. Red curls. Incredibly vibrant red curls. He fixed it as best as he could, but Lauren had got him, and usually, he’d stop that immediately, but, “It was about Roman,” he admitted.

Lauren’s face fell, “Oh,” Deceit was uncomfortable by her dark, thoughtful gaze, “Hey...about Roman--” She was cut off, as the door opened again, Logan stepping inside because fuck patient confidentiality, I guess. 

“What about Roman?” Logan asked because fuck patient confidentiality.

Lauren remained silent, her face stone, eyes unblinking as Logan stood behind her. Logan’s gaze easily slid off her onto Deceit, accusatory. If only Deceit knew his crime. 

“If you must know," Deceit drawled, face straight, “I was discussing the logistics of fucking your brother.”

Lauren snorted.

Logan’s face somehow receded into his skull, “You’re… disgusting.” 

“I mean,” Deceit leaned back, tongue flicking over his lips, “You’re supposed to say that, but objectively have you seen your brother,” he sighed, fanning himself, “Legs for days.”

He was exaggerating in the fact that he didn’t look at Roman or anyone in that way. If he did it was rather infrequent and usually something he ignored if he could help it, but Logan didn’t need to know that. 

“You’re bullshitting,” Logan said, mouth firm, “What are you really talking about?” He asked, directing the question to Lauren.

“He’s right,” Lauren said, flipping the pages on her clipboard, “We need to know if sexual contact with the Heir had any adverse effects--both ways, seeing as Roman is particularly prone to… 'overheating', as you know,” Logan’s sour face seemed to imply that was a pleasant memory, “So, I was asking him if he preferred a gynecologist or a urologist,” 

It was fascinating how eloquently she delivered that platter of bullshit. Deceit was impressed.

Logan, surprise, surprise, was not, his eyes narrowed, “I don’t--”

“Let me do my job.” Lauren cut him off, “Sir.” she added, pleasant, “It’s completely inappropriate to have you in the room and you’ll only make him more likely to lie and hide important medical information.” 

“I never said you couldn’t--” Logan started, but Lauren pointed to the door, “I’ll be back in 30 minutes,” He told Deceit as if they hadn’t been doing the same routine for the last week before he turned and finally left.

Deceit flipped off the closed door, “That was some impressive bullshit,”. Lauren cleared her throat, catching his attention, “What?”

“Well…” She twirled the pen around her finger with ease, “It wasn’t...necessarily a lie.”

Deceit’s face darkened, “We didn’t have sex.” 

“Sure.” Lauren said, clicking the pen, “Gynecologist or Urologist?”

“We didn’t.” Deceit growled.

“You'd better not, that’s gross. And you won’t believe the amount of paperwork it’ll cause--that isn’t even including the possible ramifications if you managed to get Roman pregnant,” Lauren said, “Imagine, giving an ultrasound to a statue. Completely possible, but an absolute nightmare. Anyway, it’s been a while since anyone has treated a shapeshifter, so it’s a good idea to get you checked out-- ” 

“No.”

“--And it would be beneficial for you to become familiar with any genitalia you choose to replicate, that way you can monitor your health properly, especially if you start to have cycles--”

“I assure you, I won't be having cycles.”

“That's even more concerning. Gynecologist first, then urologist.”

“Fuck you.”

\---

Logan and Deceit sparred again.

Logan won, again.

\---

To anyone else, Deceit was adjusting fine. 

He went to the appointments, he read and reread the same books, he begrudgingly listened to Dr. Picani talk--and that man does indeed talk. He tolerated Logan’s blatant bare minimum tolerance. 

He kept his space from the others, he was pleasant, sympathetic. So much so even Virgil stopped scowling when Deceit sat down for dinner and Patton tended to remember his “name”. It seemed as if they were adjusting, reluctantly. 

Deceit was adjusting. That constant itch of needing to do something, anything was washed away with a wave of calm. 

No, not calm. 

Deceit was still pissed. 

But it was drowned in certainty. Chill patience rushed over the heat bubbling underneath. He walked the halls, knowing each turn, each face, every creak. 

There was an inherent power with Knowing. Something that kept him afloat, even when he was far from shore. And soon enough he combed the books willingly, drinking in the words, once clunky phrases and intelligible languages flowing from his tongue, as if they were becoming under his gaze. He read and he waited, and he read, and he waited. 

Opportunity came while in the library.

An ancient room with books thicker than some people. Its rows and rows of books careened over them, a few courageous glimpses of light finding its way to their tables below. 

Virgil and Patton sat together, Virgil was sitting like a freak on some crate listening to an audiobook, eyes closed in a way you’d mistake him for relaxed while Patton sat beside him, not reading, only staring ahead. 

Logan didn’t sit, Instead, he wandered up and down the aisle, occasionally pulling out a book--flipping through, before adding it to his cart. He never wandered far from Deceit, the only person sitting at an actual table. 

Patton stood up, slipping out of the library without a word--not unnoticed, but without much protest.

It put Deceit on edge.

Even though he didn’t know Patton well, the change in attitude was clear. Patton didn’t drift off from the library forgetfully, with that always dazed expression. He rose, expectant. He looked hungry, his skin’s glow sparking with something more intense. 

Seconds later, there was an explosion. 

Bookshelves shuddered, stacks crashing with plumes of dust following, as another explosion shook the ground. 

Virgil was the next out of the room, skittering, close to the floor, face shining with dark eyes. Logan was the next-- not exactly slow, but more deliberate. Taking in the room all at once, and following close behind Virgil, some orders fell out of his mouth too quickly. He was gone, quick. 

Deceit was quietly forgotten, and he couldn’t thank them enough. 

Right about now, the library was falling apart at the seams, Deceit rose from his seat in time to miss getting crushed alongside with his table. He sidestepped falling books, but couldn’t exactly escape the stinging air, a sharp musk of burning and…

Deceit paused briefly in the wreckage looking back and sniffing but he shook his head. He’d have to figure that out later. He picked up the pace, passing by the distinct, glowing hole in the wall and entering the hallway. Down one way was a trail of burning footsteps, shouting, and his 'team' obviously in need of some help reigning in Patton. 

Deceit went the other way, a skip in his step.

\---

Knocking on Dr. Picani’s door, Deceit attempted to look concerned, “Dr. Picani there’s been an accident--” The door creaked open by itself, so naturally Deceit let himself in. 

No one was inside. 

It was a fairly large office, not that Deceit had much room for reference, with plants crawling the back walls, and spilling from the large windows behind the desk. The desk itself was normally neat, orderly, but today the stacks, upon stacks of files were scattered on the floor as if erupting from the desk. 

Emile must have left immediately. 

Deceit strolled about the big-oak desk, not quite rummaging through anything yet, not when he wasn’t sure if the old man had cameras. 

He pinched his lips, eyeing the mess and then the door as if conflicted. He sat down in one of the leather seats in front of Picani’s desk, tapping his feet impatiently, before standing up and reaching for the pile as if to tidy it up. Well, at least that was the plan. 

The pile of papers moved.

Deceit flinched, “Shit--” he cursed, scales rippling as he hopped into the chair. The papers continued to shuffle, a glimmer of something peeking through as Deceit leans forward and--

Big, red eyes. 

Deceit’s breath caught as the… creature…? No, magic folk crawled from the stack of papers, shaking. 

They were hardly bigger than Deceit’s hand, their body almost translucent, as if they were a flicker of light in a baggy dress. And their face...their face was stretched wide, no mouth, only their big eyes peering from their swamp of black hair. 

“And who might you be?” Deceit murmured, squinting at the little thing, they seemed to shake even more.


	14. My Little Traitor Heart

All Elliot could see was rows of pointed teeth and a flickering tongue. 

Deceit-- Eden-- whatever name he was going by, shadowed over them, mouth moving enough that Elliot knew they weren’t planning on eating them anytime soon. The words weren’t muffled, they might have even been articulate, but Elliot wouldn’t be able to tell. 

Elliot glanced at the door behind Deceit, their wings twitching. 

Deceit was trying to say something again, cocking his head as his eyes slit. Elliot tapped the area on their head where you’d normally find ears before shaking their head. 

Deceit's eyes widened a bit, but he nodded and pulled back. Which Elliot was grateful for, their heart was pounding against their chest, and the information stung in the back of their throat. 

They needed to get out of here before Dr. Picani got back. So they squashed their lingering anxiety, pointing to the door, before clasping their hands together.

Deceit raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and if Elliot had the nerve they would've bolted and hoped the Goddess was on their side for once in their life. But Elliot knew how strong Deceit was, they knew how deceptively sharp they were, already placing themselves between Elliot and the door, somehow making a bored expression look conniving. 

It was scary, almost as scary as the thought of Dr. Picani finding them here. Dr. Picani could come back at any moment and find Elliot and then kick them out and then it's all over and everything's falling apart and then--

Elliot flinched, feeling the sudden vibrations of the chair as Deceit knocked on it, drawing their attention again. He was--signing?

Deceit pointed at Elliot, making the sign for ‘Misrae’.

Elliot nodded, attention stuck between the door and the predator making nice in front of them. Deceit nodded as if that explained everything, tapping his head and without hesitation signing Elliot his consent.

_‘Oh thank the Goddess,’_ Elliot’s mind echoed between the two. 

_‘Don’t thank her just yet,'_ ’ Deceit replied, rather loud, but that was normal for first-timers, _‘Care to explain to me why you're nosing around in Dr. Picani’s office?’'_

Elliot fidgeted, _‘Please don’t say anything, I was-I was just,’_ They could feel their tiny form struggling, their body was exhausted, the magic burning through their veins flowing slower with each second--any second--any second.

_‘And what will I get out of it?’_

Elliot faltered, Deceit was looking quite comfortable as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he didn’t care at all if he was caught and Elliot might have believed it, but there was a deliberate nature to everything. 

Even if they’d just stumbled upon Elliot, it was as if Elliot could feel their mental cogs rearrange, reevaluate, there was a weight to their stare. There was a sadness to its intensity that seemed to pulse at the thin mental barriers hanging between the two. 

_‘So?’_

Elliot's face scrunched and they let their body revert to full size, which wasn’t exactly remarkable, but it was enough that Elliot could tell Deceit had never met a Misrae in real life. Elliot restacked the papers, still evaluating how stupid the idea was, but….

Elliot had not known Deceit for long. 

But they knew enough.

Deceit would burn the whole house down to light a match. 

So...Elliot reluctantly signed, ‘I can get you information. I'll drop the file tonight, but you'll need to be done with it before morning."

\---

The Stranger wiped his mouth, flashing a smile, “I’m so glad we’ve had this incredibly professional conversation,” he said, not quite addressing the hot pang of regret that followed his bliss, “It was… enlightening.”

“We’re not talking about this,” Emile kept his face straight, snapping to clean up the mess, “We still need to finish the interview.” he said, buttoning his shirt up, “And you’ll need to get a medical and psych examination before you stand trial.” 

“Fun, fun, fun, ” The Stranger drawled, slumped against the back of the chair, idly flipping his skirt down. Emile shot him a dirty look, “What? I wasn’t talking about it, see,” He zipped his lips, flicking away the invisible key, “Nothing, I’m your dirty little secret like always.” 

Emile readjusted and smoothed his pants, “You know it isn’t like that.” he said, un-pocketing his glasses and picking up his discarded clipboard, “It’s never personal, it’s just--” 

“Protocol?” The Stranger finished for him, hissing out the word darkly as he pushed his frames up, “Have you ever considered that maybe I’d prefer it to be personal for once.” He crossed his legs, glowering, “Y’know...a hi, how are you before you shove your tongue down my throat and send me off to death.” 

“This again?” Emile sighed, clicking his pen, “You kissed me,” 

The Stranger rolled his eyes, making a crude gesture, “You stuck your dick in me.” 

“Don’t be childish.”

“Don’t be childish,” The Stranger mocked, “Speaking of children, how’s the babysitting been going” 

“Deceit has been doing fine, he’s a surprisingly hard worker despite your frequent attempts to send him to an early grave," Emile answered, not looking up, “Roman is… stable.” 

The Stranger raised an eyebrow, “A little birdie told me you separated the set,” he said, cocking his head, “And you didn’t lose a finger… interesting.” 

“Deceit misses him, but he isn’t unreasonable,” Emile explained, impatient.

The Stranger wasn’t talking about Deceit, in fact, he half expected Roman to bring that entire mountain down just to protect his little crush. But he was surprised that Deceit was attached, which was admittedly something he should've saw coming. It was inevitable in every sense of the word, regardless of Deceit's trauma, like a long lost moth to a hungry flame. 

It was…

Fate.


	15. River Deep, Mountain High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i changed the tags already but if anyone needed another heads up there is a minor character death/suicide towards the end of this chapter so stay safe!!

Deceit felt like he was the punchline to an elaborate joke.

One where the only people he gave a damn about were either dead or well on their way to being dead. A nightmare where he decided to hold his tongue and go along with the bullshit team-building exercise from his glorified jailer in hopes that maybe, just maybe, they’ll be dumb enough to eventually trust him. 

This nightmare was so convoluted that he didn’t utter a single phrase of protest when they got locked in this maze with only a phone for “emergencies”. But now it was too late to complain, it was too late to regret attempting to be nice because the light was so bright and it burned like a motherfucker. 

\---

(earlier that morning) 

Logan was an early riser, but he knew that Virgil wasn’t so he was brewing coffee. And this was particularly momentous because well after a week or so of Virgil being angry and then Logan being angry at Virgil for being angry, Logan had acquired a thoughtful pang in his heart. 

A sort of longing for when things were a bit easier, even though Logan knew on a fundamental level that nostalgia was nothing but misleading. Their relationship was never perfect because they were fundamentally imperfect, so there must have been problems lurking beneath the surface or rather insecurities that were thoughtfully ignored.

“Oh," Logan said, not bothering to hide his disappointment as Deceit had slinked into the room. His shift an unwary mixture of not quite human but not quite creature, “You’re certainly awake early,”

Deceit smiled, which was more than enough warning for Logan to be on high alert once again. 

Last week Deceit was working steadily through the faces of some Baroque paintings in the hallways, it was as if an uncanny person had stepped out of the paintings themselves. But this was more unnerving because Deceit didn't even try. He was either getting sloppy or at the very least...relaxed. 

If Deceit was getting relaxed, he was getting comfortable, and that would excite Dr. Picani to no bounds. 

Deceit eyes flickered, “I guess I am awake early,” he said as if surprised, “So there's no appointment today?” he asked, fingers skimming the edges of the fruits on the nearby counter. 

“No," Logan watched them carefully, “Dr. Picani did want us to go to the Training hall early, I think we're going to begin prepping for the offerings.” 

And Deceit would need a lot of prep. Logan doubts he even knew what Offerings were. 

Deceit nodded along, “Yeah-yeah,” he said, clearly bored, as he plucked up an apple. 

Logan narrowed his eyes, “You have to be there.” 

Deceit turned the apple in his hand, before taking a bite, “I’ll be there.”

\---

Virgil had shuffled in at the last minute, hoodie firmly flipped on and a steaming cup of coffee in hand. 

“Good morning,” Logan greeted, tying his shoes.

Virgil paused,scowling instinctively, but with no real bite. He was still tired from yesterday, they all were, “Morning’” he grumbled, walking to the locker rooms without a second glance to Logan or Deceit, which was fine with Deceit. 

Virgil had never really changed and he never played nice. It was nauseatingly nostalgic, but at least it makes it easier. It makes the memories, with the sharp words and soft hands, so much more fresh, keeping Deceit’s anger a dripping, frothy mess, even underneath the layers of “playing nice”. 

If Virgil had been playing nice, if Virgil had really changed, this would’ve been so much more of a mess. But it wasn’t. Deceit could play out the reluctantly vulnerable newbie and could keep his space. 

It was fine, Deceit kept himself busy. He had spent most of the night combing through the file and committing anything important to memory. Sometime during that he'd pass out and when he'd woken up, the file was gone. So he spent the morning in the library trying to find any more resources, with little to no luck. 

“Good morning, I hope you had a good rest,” Dr. Picani greeted them, all smiles. He did not mention Patton’s absence, “Today, we’ll be doing a bit of an...exercise. It seems to me your teamwork is still lacking lately.”

“Oh, wow,” Virgil said, “What a surprise, Patton’s yoinked back to the colonies and we’re stuck with a stranger and suddenly teamwork is dysfunctional?” 

Emile sucked in a measured breath, “I was referring to you and Logan’s teamwork yesterday,” he explained, raising an eyebrow, “I wasn’t there, but a nurse did mention that the entire time you two ‘bickered atrociously’ while Patton was in a severe need of assistance.” 

“No one else was even--” Logan’s lips thinned, “Lauren,” he said, darkly, glancing at Virgil. 

“Tch,” Virgil flushed, looking away, “Lauren’s such a snitch.”

“Ms. Sanders,” Emile corrected, not amused, “Despite being younger than you two, she is still capable of doing her job even during a crisis. She’s been awarded some much needed time off for going out of her way to help with clean up while you two were pouting in your rooms. She even escorted Patton to the colonies herself,” That got them quiet, real quick and Dr. Picani readjusted his glasses, “Today we’re taking a trip to the mazes. It’s an old exercise, but it’s rather effective.” He grew a bit more somber, “It’s the same exercise my mentor put me and my own team through when I was an apprentice.” 

Dr. Emile Picani leveled his gaze on them, “I think it’d do you good.”

\---

Deceit has been here before. 

The streets of the town were empty, despite it being mid-afternoon, the shops were all closed or better yet deserted. The little restaurants with tables outside had still hot food abandoned and discarded, with some purses, and even shoes being left behind littering the streets. 

Emile strolled down the main street as if he owned the town, but Deceit thinks he’s not too far off from the truth. Logan and Virgil seemed familiar with the town seeing as they didn’t look particularly alarmed, more so they looked uncomfortable and Deceit wasn’t sure if they were uncomfortable with each other or with the town itself. 

They stopped in front of a shop,a filthy plant shop, and Deceit knew for sure he’s been here before. It was such an irritating experience that it would be hard to forget. 

Dr. Picani opened the door and the bell jingled as they all slipped inside. Ede- Deceit held his tongue, not to be polite, but because among the dim light and the dusty plants clustered together, the air was different or rather--

There was magic here. Slow stirring magic that slipped around them neat, locking away the outside world all at once. And with that realization, the plants seemed less suffocating--more so a form of relief and the dust seemed all the more potent. 

This place was drowning in memories. 

“W...what is this place…?” Deceit asked before he could catch himself.

“A plant shop?” Virgil was confused. 

“You can feel it?” Logan seemed surprised, “I guess that does mean you’re natural.” 

At that Virgil really seemed surprised, hand catching on Logan’s shoulder as he leaned forward to inspect Deceit, “Wait he’s a nat-” He stopped, hand flinching away from Logan as if it burned and Logan looked hurt. 

The silence that followed was disgusting, because it was filled with nothing but memories, nice memories that were sorely out of place, but kept lingering and lingering because they were never supposed to disappear in the first place.

Dr. Picani checked his watch, “When Council members get tired of their job they have only a couple of alternatives. Resignation or..." His succinct tone grew softer," --they become keepers of some sort, this one just so happened to be my mentor, ” he explained, “They’re intended to keep a record of when folk access parts of the older, more magically inclined world.” he said, pausing, “I’m surprised the Stranger didn’t explain it to you when he brought you here.” 

“How would you--” Deceit squinted.

“My job is to track the magic folk who go in and out of those places, pretty boy,” The Old Man’s voice chided from the back and Dr. Picani smiled approaching the man. 

“Pretty boy,” Virgil echoed, confused, looking at Deceit’s rather horrific shift that he chose for today. 

Deceit didn't much care for their distaste in his form for today. He wasn’t all that fond of copying faces he hardly knew, in fact, he hated copying faces he didn’t know. Every time he slipped on another mask , the face that reflected felt cold and foreign, his reflection looking real enough to snatch him, but inherently imperfect no matter how long or hard he studied the paintings or the people. 

“One of my first shifts,” Deceit lied easy, “He was a fan favorite, apparently,” he narrowed his eyes, teeth flashing, “Would you like to see?” 

Like clockwork, Logan’s eyes widened, “No.” he said sternly.

Virgil’s face soured, “Of course,” he rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t want him messing with you,” Logan tried to explain.

“Maybe if you actually told me what’s going on I’d be able to make the decision for myself-”

“Logan, Virgil--” Dr. Picani called them over, all pleasant and prickly in the way all old people seemed to have mastered, “You need to be over here, listening, to know what you’re doing for this exercise.” 

Deceit, who had left immediately, waved innocently from beside Dr. Picani and Logan and Virgil grumbled, walking over as well.

“Thank you,” Dr. Picani sighed, redirecting his attention back to the Old Man, “Is it ready?” he asked.

The Old Man nodded towards a closet door, “It is,” he said, and Emile directed the Apprentices and Deceit into the closet, with the promise to catch up with them to explain. 

\--

The Old Man looked somber, watching the door close behind them. He picked up a picture frame, the dusty faces smiling back at him, “Emile…” he frowned, “When they found the Stranger, was she with him?”

Dr. Emile Picani paused, a measured pause you take before you consider whether or not you should lie or tell the nasty truth. 

“Yes, she...was, ” He admitted although he couldn’t say whether or not she was still alive.

She was never supposed to be alive. 

Aleseners are dead, both in name and in legacy and the Council would prefer to keep that way from now on, so it was quite reasonable the Council would wipe her from existence altogether. 

“Did the Council arrest her too?” The Old Man asked, voice calm but his face had paled and his hands were shaking, and the picture frame was shaking, and their faces, those dusty young faces smiling back at him were shaking and shaking and shaking--

“Yes, we did,” Emile admitted, once again, turning on his heel, but not yet walking away.

“Emile,” The Old Man sounded desperate. 

“I did. I arrested Dot and the Stranger.” 

“They’re your family,” The Old Man hissed. 

“They were my team,” Emile said, "My family is dead.” He reasoned, because it was reasonable, it had to be or else everything, including himself, would fall apart. 

“That doesn’t sound like you, what happened?” The Old Man’s shaking stopped, and the shop, it's magic, and all the memories wrapped so carefully around, it took in a breath. 

Emile swallowed thick, “It was protocol, Sir.” 

“Dr. Picani,” The Old Man said, like a goodbye. 

“Yes sir,” Emile inhaled, bracing himself.

“I don’t want to see you after today,” It wasn’t a goodbye, It was good riddance, “I don’t want to be a keeper any-longer, I will not continue to work for this organization or its beliefs. I will not continue to see my family be destroyed, I will not stand here and watch my love be discarded like a toy when I meant it with every fiber of my being." The Old Man folded his arms, with the tilt of his chin, "Consider this my resignation.” 

“I,” Emile choked, but the Old Man’s gaze held no joke, the wet streaks blotting the picture frame, smearing away the faces were devastating, so Emile steadied his voice, closed his eyes and nodded, “I understand.” 

“Leave,” The Old Man snarled, taking off the dark shades, his bright blue eyes were greying fast, his wrinkled skin becoming looser, paler, as the Old Man’s magic meticulously picked away at the Immortality that held his insides together. 

One by One The Old Man cut each string until it severed, starting with the Stranger, continuing with Emile, and ending with his Immortality. He held the memory of Dot close to his heart and let it guide him into the expanding light pressing against his skin, slipping past his bones and back to their home once more. 

The Old Man was dead. 

No body remained. No blood, no scream past their lips. 

In a flash of light, they were gone and Emile watched it happen. Because it was protocol.

No amount of fondness or nostalgia could change the fact that the Old Man left the Council, permanently, therefore there was no point in trying to reason with the unreasonable, describe the indescribable. There are clear cut rules that have spanned for longer, that reach deeper, and mean all the much more then a couple of memories. 

So Dr. Emile Picani stood, he watched, and later on he will record the instance and will most likely pick out The Old Man’s replacement, but for now he had students and he had Offerings approaching soon. 

Emile slipped into the closet, leaving the shop and the memories behind.


	16. We Won’t Eat Our Words (They Don’t Taste Too Good)

It’s a closet. 

A glorified closet, so Deceit honestly doesn’t know what to tell you about it other then it's dark, it's cramped, and that Logan is insistent that they absolutely cannot eavesdrop on Dr. Picani and Lazy Cow and instead must stew in this dark, did he mention cramp closet? 

Deceit was reaching the point of boredom where he was tempted, ever so slightly to just leave and keep walking. He felt that impulse as well as the impulse to get nostalgic because Deceit had been shoved into a lot of closets for a lot of reasons. Some not good, some...more enjoyable, but most a tantalizing mixture of both. 

Before he could indulge, the door abruptly opened, light streaking inside. Dr. Picani was a stark shadow looming above them. He seemed to have aged several years within the past few minutes, but his expression was the same pleasant, not quite a smile, not quite a frown so that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed a change if they were under the assumption that Dr. Emile Picani was a pleasant person. But Deceit didn’t think many people were pleasant, himself included, so he assumed the worst and didn’t question it further. 

“Oh,” Dr. Picani said, but not to them, “You didn’t turn on the lights,” he said, snapping and like that, Deceit felt exposed, one by one candle on either side of a long aisle lit up, seemingly forever. 

Dr. Picani didn’t step inside, “Take as long as you want, but know that I’ll be busy if anything arises,” He handed them a phone, “Use this if you have an emergency, but only if you have an emergency,” He handed the phone to Logan, not even waiting for protests or goodbyes, it felt familiar. 

He was gone leaving the three of them in this long corridor, light flickering gently, beckoning them forward into the stretch of darkness.

\---

“Back so soon?” The Stranger asked from the floor. Their dark hair spilled over his shoulders, long, much longer then it had been when he first came here. His clothes hung loosely from their now gaunt form, their blue eye focused on the unending white space above. 

Emile clicked his pen, “I’m here for your evaluation,” he said.

“Sure you are, “ The Stranger batted his eyes, lips curled, predatory. 

Emile ignored them, not even a glance up from their clipboard, “He died.” 

The Stranger faltered, “He resigned?” he asked.

“Yes,” he said, “He found out about Dot and I guess he...I don’t know what he thought was going to happen. But I certainly didn’t stop him, it was his right.” 

“It was his--” The Stranger scowled, “Why are you justifying this, the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed, standing all at once, “Did you even try to stop him? Did you even try to console him or did you just sit there like a fucking bitch on a leash again--”

“Oh, you’re trying to lord over me,” Emile sneered, “You use her, you’ve used him, every step of the way and you dare to say I don’t care,” He glanced down at his clipboard surprised, ink running as tears ran hot down his face, “She wouldn’t have been in the situation if you’d just… just,” he wiped his eyes, “Leave it be. Whatever you were planning, let’s just leave it behind.” he choked, running his hands in his hair, “Let’s --Let’s,” he stumbled forward and the Strange caught him, surprised.

“Emile?” The Stranger, wrapped his arms around their shoulders, feeling them shake, “Emile, you’re not making any sense, it’s too late for any of that...”

Emile looked up and The Stranger’s breath caught. His hair was messy, their face all blotchy and glasses askew, they were like a little kid, “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I don’t want to fight anymore I don’t know what I, what I...” 

“Darling, how exactly do you plan to get us out of this then,” The Stranger reasoned, smoothing their bangs back with soft touches, “It won’t last, we never do--” 

Emile kissed the Stranger, hard, desperate like how the Stranger’s kissed him so many times before. And the Stranger kissed back. He ached, as Emile’s hands cupped his face, tugged his body as if trying to get him closer as if for the first time he was trying. 

“Em, ” The Stranger felt his back hit some sort of wall, and he groaned feeling Emile press into him again, “Oh, that’s one way to say you're happy to see me,” 

Emile laughed between his hiccups, hands gripping The Stranger’s hips as he rested his head in the crook of their neck, “Mm, “ he hummed, “Something like that.”

“Y’know, what you said about me…” The Stranger swallowed, “ About me being no better than you, about how I used them…”

The Stranger could feel them frown against his skin, “You know I didn’t mean it,” Emile promised, it was so strange to hear him be the one to promise such things. It’s been so long, too long. 

“I know you didn’t mean it,” The Stranger reassured them, because after so many messy breakups, and messier arguments they said a lot of untruthful things about each other, “But I mean it when I say, I did use him,” he admitted, fingers tracing careful arcs in Emile’s chest, eyes bright, “The Old Man tried so hard to prove that I was worth something, but I did use him. And I would’ve done it again,”

“That’s not true…” Emile’s words were disconnected, his mouth like cotton as he looked up to meet the Stranger’s eyes, so desperate, so pleading, so...vulnerable.

“I mean it,” The Stranger said cooly, “I used Dot, but she knows that she’s fine with that--and,” he did not stutter, “I love you, you know that? I loved you for so long, but--” 

“But? What are you--” Emile’s eyes grew wide as he tried to move away, to let go, but his body remained firmly in place, holding the Stranger so gentle as the Stranger’s soft touches grew cold.

“I love you, Emile,” The Stranger repeated as if it’d change it all, as if years from now they’ll laugh at this and it would be fine because he did love Emile and some time ago Emile may have loved him just as much, “But we we're never meant to last, I’m building something that will last.” 

Emile’s eyes flickered with recognition, feeling the all-too-familiar probing of his mind sneak up on him all at once, “No-no-no, you can’t,” He pleaded, “why can’t we leave it--”

“Elliot.” The Stranger’s command was sharp.

And Emile, his team-mate, his jailer, his stubborn lover who was all too persistent and steadfast in all the wrong things, was out like a light. 

\---

It was a long trek into the darkness, the candles providing little light and even less warmth as they walked down the corridor. Virgil first, who navigated easily, his many eyes dilated, flickering at every shadow and noise. Then it was Deceit because it would be foolish not to keep an eye on him, and then Logan, the one keeping an eye on him. 

“Does this go on forever,” Virgil complained.

“Are your legs bothering you?” Logan asked, and Deceit groaned. They were doing the thing where they talk through Deceit as if that makes their relationship any less awkward. 

“No it's my-I didn’t say that,” Virgil sniffed, catching himself again, though Deceit could tell he was getting slower or at least he was more distracted. Still, whether that was attributed to fatigue was anybody's bet. 

“If you didn’t want a response, you shouldn’t have said anything,” Logan replied. 

Virgil spun around at that, now walking backwards, “How do you know I was talking to you, huh?” he said, face pinched, “I could’ve been talking to the snake-fucker for all you know.” 

Logan sighed, “Were you, Virgil?”

Virgil snorted, “Of course not--Shit-” As he spun back around he slammed into a wall, Deceit slammed into him, and Logan slammed into Deceit. 

“What was that…” Virgil groaned, staggering to their feet.

“A wall,” Deceit drawled, eyes flickering over the heavily carved wall.

“I think he means,” Logan stood up, readjusting their glasses, “What does it mean,” Deceit rolled his eyes, “It looks ancient, Alesener maybe.”

“Oh great, “ Virgil sighed, “It's not like they stopped teaching Alesener, years ago.”

“I’m sure there’s another way,” Logan said, inspecting the carvings, frown growing deeper, “Maybe I can pull up a translator,”

“On ancient Alesner?” Virgil's nose curled, hands tracing the markings, “Sure.” 

“Well I don’t see you having any ideas--”

“It's a riddle.” Deceit cut in. Normally he’d just, let them figure it out and play dumb, but he didn’t want to stay here in a children’s maze with these two bickering. 

“A riddle,” Virgil echoed lamely.

“A riddle.” Deceit confirmed glancing at the wall again, mostly for show. 

Wall carvings were a common form of decoration in the Alesener village, but they were usually nonsense since the art was less in the meaning and more in the elegance the words form. Dot, however, seems to enjoy both. Her walls were littered with puns and riddles, all of which seemed profound at first, but after the extensive translation was more often than not children’s puns at best or dirty jokes at worst. 

“How would you know that?” Logan asked, but in a tone that sounded more like a demand than anything.

“Yeah, you're not exactly a scholar,” Virgil said with a skeptical look. 

“Like it's any of your business,” Deceit scoffed, before thoughtfully scanning the riddle again, “What I’m getting is that we need a map and the map is most likely…” Deceit frowned, “The truth?” 

“Ah, it’s that type of maze,” Logan nodded as if that made perfect sense, “To enter each new part of the maze, someone in the group needs to admit a truth, the stronger the truth, the faster we get out of the maze.” he recited without faltering, “Usually it's harder then you realize to tell a perfect truth, so we have to be careful, these usually have some sort of...difficulty increase if someone lies.” 

“Difficulty?” Deceit eyed the wall cautiously as if it’ll burn.

“Monster’s perhaps,” Logan shrugged, “Or it might make it harder to get out.” 

“Fantastic,” Virgil sighed, “So how do we, y’ know, get goin’?”

“Easy,” Logan approached the wall, raising a hand and pressing it in the center of the deep markings, “I am an Apprentice,” he said and at first nothing happened. 

Then there was the groaning, the stone wall scraping, inch by inch open, before revealing two pathways. Logan stepped forward, and the others followed.

If they had looked behind them, they would have seen the candles flicker behind them, getting taller, their golden flames unruly and leaving puddles in their wake. And once the wall shut again the dancing flames went out all at once.


	17. A Tale Of Two Brothers

Lauren was a prodigy in every right, but at the end of the day, she was sixteen. 

A sixteen-year-old going on seventeen who has to deal with more familial drama then reasonable for one lifetime. A sixteen-year-old, the fourth born of eight who wasn’t human enough to be left to her own devices, but wasn’t magical enough to justify throwing a fit about being ignored. She wasn’t magical enough to save her dad, she wasn’t enough to find Remus, but she was smart enough to understand that it shouldn’t be her job to begin with.

It wasn’t her fault, so she shouldn’t have to fix it, but she wanted to--she desperately wanted to fit together the pieces and have her family again, so she didn’t have to be useful, she didn’t have to be a prodigy, she didn’t have to care whether or not she was too human or not human enough. She wanted a boyfriend, she wanted to have friends, she wanted to see her mom. 

And she desperately wanted her big brother back, because if the Heir is back if he takes back control, then everything else can fall into place. And even if it doesn’t, at least she’ll have someone to grieve with, someone to remember with, someone to love with. 

Lauren Sanders was sixteen years old when she broke the law for the first time. 

She did it for a man with no name, but many promises. She doesn’t quite know if she’s gone too far, she doesn’t know what else she’s willing to do, but she did get Roman back. 

\---

Logan's strides were purposeful and quick.

Although he didn’t have as heightened sensory abilities like his siblings, he knew that the best idea was to trust his instinct then improvise. He was never good with improvising, but that wasn’t the point. He was in a maze, a magic maze, and the best way to get out of it was to just go along with its purpose; and this maze was about truth.

Logan Sanders was never good with improvising, but the truth is something he can do. 

His strides were purposeful, quick, and--

There was no one behind him. 

Logan froze, “Virgil?” he called, his voice echoing down the stone halls. He froze, panic setting quick, “Deceit," He barked as if to pull them from the shadows. 

Shit, this wasn’t good. He doesn’t know how he got separated, but he had to fix it and fix it quick--

“Mama?” A young voice said and Logan swallowed thickly, recognizing it. 

He turned around slowly, seeing the gaunt child behind him. Their auburn locks choppy, more grey than red. Glasses too big and thick for their face and a frown much too serious, much too sad for such a small face. 

Logan met their eyes, the only indication that this wasn’t real was the faint shimmer around the child---around Loga-- No. 

Logan shook his head, they weren’t real, that couldn’t be him, but it was, unnaturally so--in a way Logan understood wasn’t him, but it was the version of him kept close to his heart. A memory. 

The child version of Logan shimmers only intensified as they broke out into a toothy grin, “Mama!” they whispered breathless, darting through Logan and down the hall before he--The Real Logan, could even shudder. 

Logan swallowed thick, "So it's that type of maze,” he muttered. 

He turned on his heel, following the child, somehow managing not to flinch as his mom materialized next to them. Her locs piled high, jingling with beads. Her warm, brown eyes flickering to the child and holding her rounded stomach. 

Logan vaguely recognized that maternity dress, it was a gift from their father, celebrating their official marriage.

“Are you excited to meet your new family?” His mom asked the child, laughing at how they eagerly nodded.

Logan almost choked up entirely, but his feet kept moving, forward, forward, forward, as the stone walls faded into spiraling staircases, the Sanders Manor being faithfully recreated before his very eyes. Only the haze of the surroundings indicating that this wasn’t real--none of this was real. 

But his mom’s laugh, he knew to his core that was real and it hurt to hear. It hurt, even more, to see his father appear, floating down the staircase with careless ease, the frills of his attire clashing with his reserved smile, so reserved, but with mom, it always blossomed into something softer. 

Logan knew his Mom didn’t change his father in any way. He was still the head of the household in every way, shape, and form from how he held himself to how he raised his children. But she did seem to lift a bit of the pressure off of him. As if she reminded him that he didn't have to be alone in this big house anymore. 

Behind his father, clambered a smaller form, their red hair as wild as their smile, the formal wear gripping to their body as if Remus would burst from it at any second. 

“This is Remus,” His mom introduced gently. She looked to his father, concerned, “Is Roman…?” 

His father shook his head, “I didn’t want to pressure him. He’s only just started walking again after that last bou--”

“I’m here.” a voice said.

A voice that was not only small, it was fragile in a way that no one should’ve been able to hear it, but they all did. Soon after Roman appeared, a nanny supporting him on one side and a cane on the other. 

He looked haggard in every respect, face shadowed darkly, and deathly thin--his body shaking with every step. The nightgown swallowing him whole, but his eyes were unflinching, and everyone’s attention was drawn away all at once. 

Logan had never been able to describe what Roman was capable of, the Sanders craft at its core was an art of Persuasion, but Logan suspected that for Roman it was an act of command, an act of whispering and having every possible ear want to hang onto your every word. It was a gift to have a bond to the Goddess that strong, and it was horribly, terribly wasted. 

His father didn’t even need to speak before Remus flickered to Roman’s side in an instant. Logan would never understand those two. In every instance Remus should’ve challenged Roman for his first-born position, it was only logical. Either that or Roman should’ve at least stepped down.

As if hearing his thoughts, Roman looked past them all, looking Logan dead in the eye, smiling. 

That fucking smile. 

It all dissolved at once.

\---

Logan’s consciousness crashed into his body all at once, his mind stinging like it was dipped ice. Then his body crashed into a wall, then the floor. 

“Shit!” He heard Virgil curse, feeling hands on his shoulder. 

Logan groaned sitting up, “Wha--?” he asked, seeing Deceit stand off to the side, partially shifted, clothes torn. Logan looked to Virgil seeing fresh bruises and scars, his clothes were torn as well, but to a lesser degree. Logan sat up straighter, now awake, “What happened?” he demanded.

Virgil froze and Logan blinked, “Sorry, “ he said a bit softer, “What happened?”

“It’s kinda weird…” Virgil muttered, helping him stand up, “You kinda went all...glowy after the door opened, and led the way but…” he frowned.

“The truth is the map,” Deceit recited, walking around the two to approach the new wall. “After you got all ‘glowy’ you led the way through the maze, and we nearly avoided all trouble, but,” he looked at Logan, “You must have lied.” 

“How would I lie,” Logan scowled, “It was a memory.”

“How old were you in memory?” Deceit snorted, raising an eyebrow, “Because memories are inherently flawed, so something you remember from five years ago won't be as clear as last week. ” 

“I...That makes sense,” Logan swallowed, shaking the last of his disorientation away. He glanced at the stone wall, “So who’s going next?”

Virgil made a face, “I have a pretty shitty memory,” he muttered and they looked to Deceit.

”Absolutely not.”

“This exercise is about trust,” Logan said. 

“And you don’t trust me,” Deceit crossed his arms, unamused, “So I don’t think it’d be fair to expect me to trust you two with my body.” 

“Everybody has to contribute,” Logan pressed.

“I already have” Deceit cocked his head, scales rippling in challenge, “I translated the riddle--and I’ve saved your ass from falling into traps numerous times already,” 

Logan looked skeptical, but Virgil nodded in agreement, “Yeah he has been a big help,” he shrugged sheepish, "When you go all glowy, you don’t seem to have any awareness and while I can sometimes catch the traps ahead of time---he’s strong enough to get you out of the way in time.” 

Logan inhaled, pinching his nose, “Alright, alright, your point has been made,” He pressed his lips in a think line, glaring holes in the wall in front of them, “I’ll lead the way,” And leave Virgil with Deceit, “Until I get back, you listen to Virgil and you’ll protect Virgil, or else.”

Virgil flushed, indignant, “I can take care of myself.”

“Or else what,” Deceit spat.

Logan did not grin, he did not smile, his face severe as he lifted his hand to the wall, “Roman and I may be related by blood, but Virgil is my family,” he said, pressing his hand to the wall and hearing it groan, “So I have no qualms with putting him down to put you in your place.”

Before either Virgil or Deceit could protest, the faint blue glow wafted from Logan again, his feet moving and his face blank.

“I-uh,” Virgil scowled, crossing his arms, “Sorry about that,” he said as they followed Logan down the long, twisting halls, “He’s completely out of line.” 

“It isn’t like I haven't heard the threat before,” Deceit said, eyes attentive to the changing and shifting symbols along the walls, “And it isn’t like you trust me either.”

Deceit did neglect to mention to Logan that whatever happened in the memory was being inscribed on the walls, but to be fair that probably would’ve brought up an entire discussion about how Deceit should be the one to bare his soul to the world. Even though those two were pretty illiterate in Alesener, Deceit very well couldn’t risk them trying to take pictures either.

Virgil caught up to Deceit, new eyes peppering their face, “I don’t trust you, but Logan doesn’t get the right to baby me after the shit he’s pulled.” he said, “He’s like a glorified babysitter at this point, I mean we used to be friends. Partners and now he won’t even tell me what he’s protecting me from as if I need it--” He yelped as he tripped.

Before he ate stone, Deceit caught him leaving Virgil wide-eyed and blushing. Virgil was always a bit of a blusher, “Uh thanks?” he choked the thanks out as if it was foreign. 

“I follow orders,” Deceit nodded, “And it seems like Logan’s only following them too, except he does so… poorly.” he said, watching as Logan took another almost robotic turn, “How do they expect to protect you if they leave you in the dark the entire time?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Virgil seemed to buzz with that affirmation, “And the frustrating thing is that he always seems to ignore the risks when it comes to his own safety," He huffed and Deceit managed to hold back a laugh.

Yes, Virgil didn’t trust him, but Virgil certainly had no hesitation in being vulnerable. His frustrations were spilling out of him at the first sign of an eager ear. 

“You should ask him,” Deceit offered, “You mentioned you had memory problems, well maybe they know something you don’t about your past,” They knew, but they knew all the wrong things, “Just because he’s a leader doesn’t mean you have to blindly trust him.”

At that suggestion, hesitation came first, because of course, it came. Virgil was probably considering if Deceit had an ulterior motive, which he did, but it was hard to determine when the suggestion was so reasonable, the seed was so innocent.

Then came the acknowledgment, washing over Virgil’s face. It wasn't the only possible conclusion, but it was logical enough, so why not? Logan and Virgil have been dancing around it, so what was the harm of asking-- no, demanding further? 

Then came the doubts, and there were many--all of them muddling the deafening finality of Virgil's decision. As if they could gauge Deceit's intent from his posture or if his eyes were too predatory. But what would Deceit have to gain if there was a reason he was dangerous? Virgil already didn't trust him, so did it matter if he knew the specifics? Was a hidden gun anymore or less dangerous if it was known? 

Deceit had planted his seed and he’d be long gone before it bore fruit. 

\---

In this memory, they were teenagers. 

Logan cringed as his smaller self seemed to morph-- now all sharp angles with arms too long and a face too small. 

The tux was a formal black, with the back of it just loose enough to allow for his wings to lay comfortably underneath, but tight enough that they could all pretend that there weren’t wings at all. It was a tiresome game of trying to appear more human than they were as if humanity was merely a fashion trend favored by the Goddess that would be later discarded if proved to be unsightly. 

Remus appeared beside Logan in a similar tux, “There you are!” he said, tugging Logan along, “It’s starting--it’s starting--”

Teenage Logan stumbled after Remus, “Already?” he asked, more for show than anything.

He knew full well that the ceremony was happening now, it was for the best that he stayed out here. The thought of being in there while Roman was being crowned, while he was being rewarded for merely being born first sickened him. It should sicken Remus. 

But it didn’t, it never had and it probably never will. 

Remus led Logan into the courtyard, the lavish roses in full bloom in the summer sun and the trees creating a careful shade above them, not daring to rustle in the wind. And soon enough other people filtered in, with blurred faces, but lavish dresses. Their voices too high or too low, their importance somewhere between close family and ‘other’. 

And at the center of it was Roman, who looked delicate standing at the altar. His lace gown crawling like vines down his arms and up to his neck, his red curls a dangerous type of bright framing his thin face. He looked like a bride, he looked like a lost child, not someone being crowned the next heir of the family. 

In front of Roman stood his father, his mom, and Lauren.

“There you are,” his father said, waving them over, “We’re about to begin.”

One by one they all fell into place and the singing began. The hymns starting soft, rushing across the courtyard in a steady cacophony. The words were unimportant, but they weren’t. They held no meaning in an objective sense, but if you sang the correct word with the correct intent you could feel it take shape and blossom into the world. 

Their voices weaved, soft, alluring, but every life--no matter how large or small woke up. We were telling a story, one not even we knew, but it was intrinsic to our every being, it was a part of life and it could take apart life. It was building, building, taking shape beneath their skin-- yet with the wave of his father’s arm, it all stopped, and they were draped in the severity of the silence. 

“Today,” His father’s voice sliced through the silence, “We are here to ensure the future of our bloodline,” he said, taking a step forward towards Roman. Beside him a watchdog appeared, handing his father the star-like string of jewels.

(They should’ve seen it coming, but it happened all so fast) 

“To be first is an honor,” he said, “The Goddess has entrusted you to listen to her world carefully. She has trusted you care for this bond and the weight that it carries, no matter the risk or sacrifice," he said, handling the glinting jewels and raising them in the air for all to see, “And today, we acknowledge your commitment, as you pass from one life to another. I acknowledge her love, even as it rests,” He lowered the string of jewels hanging them Roman’s horns. 

(The fire licked at Virgil’s heels hungry and relentless, too relentless to be just another simple trap. It was too malicious, too unforgiving, too much. )

Next, his mother approached, with her string of jewels, “I acknowledge her love, even as it rests.” she repeated, with a soft smile, hanging it from Roman’s horns, then helping Lauren do the same. 

(Deceit’ kept pressing forward, even as his body screamed for relief, they were close, close, close-)

Remus’s grin was goofy as he stepped forward, pulling his hand made strand out of his pocket, “I acknowledge her love, even as it rests,” he said, hanging up his strand. It was a far cry from the elegant silvers and pearls that hung from Roman’s horns already, in fact, it was quite garish with messy glitter glue and bright emerald beads and if Remus’s rank was lower it’d be considered a insult, maybe even a challenge. But it wasn’t, and the world continued. 

(Fire, there was so much fire, and the exit was just too far.)

Then came Logan’s turn. He stepped forward, the silver strand heavy in his arms as he lifted it high, not quite meeting his brother’s eye. 

_(fire, fire fire, )_

No that wasn’t right. Logan shook his head, the scene rewriting itself, and the teenage Logan stepped forward again, the silver strand heavy in his arms, almost dragging. He couldn’t meet his brother’s eye--No--no--no--

_(No,no,no,no)_

Teenage Logan dropped the strand, looking his brother dead in the eye as the beads and pearls scattered in the grass. The whole world holding its breath and Roman’s pleasant smile--that fucking smile frozen, eyes now cold. 

“You don’t deserve to be heir,” Logan said.

(Deceit was engulfed in flame.)

His words weren’t loud, they weren’t fragile. He’d never be Sanders enough to captivate a room simply by existing, but his existence held weight all the same and his words could take shape with or without the Goddesses blessing.

Because for Logan, his words were the undeniable, unrelenting truth. 

\---

Virgil couldn't stop crying, his sobs heavy and he couldn't stop shaking. When Logan finally came out of his trance, Virgil couldn’t stop shaking, even if he felt the heavy, familiar hands ground him.

“Virgil--Virgil, what happened?” Logan asked, at least that’s what Virgil thinks. 

He could hear Logan talking but not really, it was too distant. Their mouth was moving, but the words echoed without weight. Virgil couldn’t stop shaking. Goddess, please let him stop shaking. 

At a certain point, Logan stopped asking or at least Virgil stopped trying to force himself to listen. He sat down next to Virgil, in the ashes of the old man’s shop, never letting go of Virgil’s hand.

There wasn’t a lot to ask when Virgil was here, when Logan was here, and when Deceit wasn’t here. So instead, Logan picked up the emergency phone and he made a call. 

And when Dr. Picani didn’t answer, he made another call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi thank you for reading! the next set of chapters shouldn't be out for awhile since i write the whole arc /then/ i post but i hope you stick around till then!!


	18. Somebody To Love

Deceit felt like he was the punchline to an elaborate joke.

One where the only people he gave a damn about were either dead or well on their way to being dead. A nightmare where he decided to hold his tongue and go along with the bullshit team-building exercise from his glorified jailer in hopes that maybe, just maybe, they’ll be dumb enough to eventually trust him. 

This nightmare was so convoluted that he didn’t utter a single phrase of protest when they got locked in this maze with only a phone for “emergencies.” But now it was too late to complain, it was too late to regret attempting to be nice because the light was so bright and it burned like a motherfucker. 

But surprisingly he wasn’t on fire, at least that’s what he assumed after the first few seconds of excruciating pain. Amongst his strings of curses and muddled, panicked thoughts there was one competent conclusion. 

His body wasn’t reacting.

Sure it felt like he was sitting in actual hell, but as soon as he hit the ground that itty-bitty part of his brain that was still functioning knew that his scales weren’t reacting in any way. 

His shift, while fucking hideous, was intact--his skin was intact. 

That’s when Deceit knew some fuckery was involved. Some mind fuckery at best, some magic fuckery at worst, but at the end of the day it still felt like he was being lit on fire and while it certainly wasn’t the first time it still sucked ass. 

So as soon as he felt the tell-tale signs that he was blacking out, Deceit welcomed it. 

Deceit celebrated it. 

Realistically, he should’ve been more worried. He was in unknown territory with an unknown person, but if it was going to get any worse Deceit wanted at least a goddamn nap. 

He didn’t get a wink of sleep.

One minute he was out cold on the maze floor, next minute he was gasping awake, clutching his shirt for flames that weren’t there--mind grasping for the lullaby echoing in his mind. 

Deceit shut his eyes tight, breathing in cool even breaths, “Lauren,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall, the thin cot creaking with each movement, “Care to explain?” He opened his eyes hesitantly, the room slowly coming into focus. 

It was small, large books stacked in the corners functioning as tables--holding a variety of vaguely medical supply-like shapes on them. 

Lauren cocked her head, turning towards him, , “You shouldn’t be awake,” She said, dark eyes searching. Her white hair was cut short to her ears, a fresh scar cut across her cheek, and noticeable bags under her eyes, but her scrubs were clean. 

Deceit winced at the noise, his head throbbing, “And you shouldn’t be a medically trained nurse, yet here we are,” he said, pinching his nose, “By the way, where are we?” 

“Underground,” She said with a shrug, “Remy usually doesn’t tell us ahead of time,” 

“Remy?” Deceit frowned, “But isn’t he,” he made a vague gesture. He never got confirmation on what happened to Remus. 

Lauren looked at him like he was stupid.

Now that he knew that she was a Sanders, Deceit couldn’t really unsee the resemblance. Her nose was curled in a particularly childish way that combined with her freckles screamed of Roman, but her otherwise impassive face and stiff posture was Logan through and through. 

Something must of clicked, because all that nauseating resemblance was washed away with a simple smile, “Oh, no-no-no, that would really be a disaster if Remus got his hands on you,” she said, shaking the thought away all at once, “And you’d be his type too if he wasn’t so wrapped up in that watchdog,”`she gagged, “I’m talking about Mr. No-name, The Stranger, whatever you wanna call him,” 

“Ah,” Deceit smiled, tight and resigned, “the Asshole,” 

Lauren nodded solemnly, “Yes, the Asshole.” 

“Glad to see you’re as loving as ever, brat,” The Stranger said, now leaning in front of the closed door like he’s been there the entire time. 

Deceit politely restrained himself from slamming his face into the nearest wall.

“You’re not dead,” Deceit casually noted, his finger giving a little wave. 

“And you came back with a sense of humor,” The Stranger cheered, flicking down his sunglasses, with a scowl, “Fantastic, wonderful-- anyway, now that this little reunion is over,” He tossed the door open, motioning for them to follow, “Lauren, be a dear, fill him in.”

Lauren pulled a face, “But, sir, he just woke-- Sir,” She scrambled after him, picking up her clipboard on the way out, giving Deceit an apologetic look. 

Deceit rolled his eyes, stumbling up with little grace and followed after.

“I told you not to call me sir,” The Stranger sighed, pace not slowing as they traveled down the tight hallways, “It makes me feel old, ”

“Well, you are old,” Lauren said, matter of factly, “That’s what immortality usually entails-- and why are we taking him here, sir?”

“Not sir,”

“But, sir,”

“Fill him in now, or you’re bunking with Kai,” The Stranger threatened, never once slowing. The hallways were already cramped, but it seemed the closer they got to wherever they were going the more it seemed like the walls would cave and the cracked ceiling would finally crumble. 

Lauren looked displeased, “Fine,” she said, redirecting her attention, “We gave Roman the vial, but…” She frowned, “He hasn’t woke up, but his… body has,” she’s gripping the clipboard tight, “He won’t let any of us get near him-- he won’t let me get near him-- an-- and,” 

“You need to breathe,” Deceit said simply. 

She flinched as if she just remembered he was there, “I...He needs medical attention,” she said, softer, looking away, “But I don’t think he trusts me anymore.” 

“I don’t think it's you he doesn’t trust,” Deceit said, eyes trained on The Stranger. 

Their pace slowed, and the halls seemed to get tighter, with something stirring in the air. No, it was magic-- and it was undeniably Roman’s magic. The air was thick with it, so much so even Lauren started to squirm, but Deceit only felt like it was coaxing him closer. 

Greedy bastard. 

At a certain point, The Stranger stopped as if he hit a wall. 

A little bit further, Lauren stopped as if she hit a wall. 

Deceit kept going, the door at the end of the hall waiting for him.

\---  


Roman has been described as stubborn by most people. 

He couldn’t afford to be anything less. A little less stubborn meant a lot more likely that the bad days would get worse, that he’d shut his eyes for a little bit too long and decide he didn’t want to bother opening them again. 

It was harder to be stubborn when your whole body was pleading for you to stop. It got even harder at the prospect that if he opened his eyes, he might not like what he saw. He knew they weren’t at Dot’s anymore, that he wasn’t in the Council’s “care” anymore, but he didn’t like the fact that he didn’t know where they were. 

He didn’t like the Stranger. 

So yes, he was being fucking stubborn. Yes, he refused to wake up, not without assurance, not without stability, and certainly not with the looming fucking implications of his sister being with the Stranger. 

Roman has very simple needs. 

Eden meets all of them. 

He’s tried to explain away his attachment as just a crush, as just being too codependent and touch starved for his own good, but--

“Roman…” A low voice murmured, the distinct warmth of calloused hands grounding him with the briefest of touches, “It's time to wake up, you little shit.”

Hearing Eden say his name should not feel that good.

Roman curled into the touch, letting them cradle his face, “I missed you,” he said, voice protesting from weeks of unuse. He opened his eyes slowly then all at once, pleased with how Eden leaned over him, “Did you have fun?” he asked, not particularly curious with that, but rather with how the strange form Eden chose-- stretched, broad, solid, and achingly familiar. How he could feel Eden’s magic much stronger then before, beneath the firm but brief touches, and his own magic purred in response. 

Oh, that’ll be dangerous. 

“Your brother’s a dick,” Eden said simply, gaze unflinching as he studied Roman.

“Understandable,” Roman hummed, shaking away any remaining weariness as he attempted to sit up, “He gets it from An-” he winced, bracing himself on his forarms with a grimace, “Fuck,” 

Eden steadied him, sitting beside him on the bed. Roman fought back a shudder as his body regained a more earthly feeling. “I’m fine,” he offered, closing his eyes to at least spare him the headache of seeing everything be alive.

“Apparently you haven’t been fine for a long time,” Eden said. 

Roman blinked, surprised, “I mean I haven’t been hiding it.” 

The curse blended all too seamlessly with Roman’s other… health issues. Most were somehow connected to his body’s inability to handle his own magic, but with the right treatment it was only fatal when he was younger. Still, the fatigue was… always there. 

“I… thought you were joking...” Eden mulled it over, “But I guess you haven’t, “ he admitted, but Roman still felt hot under his scrutiny. Eden’s arm settled around Roman’s waist, “Did they hurt you?”he asked with a particularly hard tone, tilting Roman’s face down for closer inspection. 

“N-no,” Roman’s mind stuttered, “Eden? What are you--” he started not sure on what he planned on saying. 

Eden’s concentration faltered briefly, his eyes melting into a soft green as he met Roman’s eyes, “I missed you too,” he explained evenly despite the creeping blush on his face.

And like that, all of Roman’s protests died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my boy is BACK y'all


	19. Can't You Hear the Horses?

Virgil has been saved three times within his lifetime, which may or may not be an underestimate. All he knows is that he has the tendency to get the short end of the stick, but he’s never the one who has to pay for it. 

He’s never the one to suffer for it, he’s never had to die for it. It's as if he’s dangling on a string, but at the last second he’s yanked back-- at the last second he’s safe and he has to be thankful that he survived.

Thankful that yet again, someone is hurt, someone is dead, and it's all his fault and the worst part of it is he didn’t even like Deceit. He still didn’t like Deceit, yet--

(Fire nipping their feet, Virgil was too slow, his legs ached, his legs screamed, and he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough, he wouldn’t, he wouldn't, he would--)

“Virgil,” He vaguely heard Logan. 

Virgil can taste the faint remains of coffee. He could taste the acrid remains of what he threw up that morning, he can feel Logan’s hand firmly on his hoodie--he could feel his hoodie nicely zipped up so he was safe. He was safe. He could see the obnoxiously bright light from the windows, he could see Logan’s plants curling along the side of it, he could see the constellations stretching across Logan’s bed-- he could see Logan. 

Virgil finally breathed, “Thank…” his throat was tight, the words won’t come. He numbly accepted the bottle of water handed to him. 

“I can ask her to reschedule the training, if you want?” Logan offered. 

Virgil shook his head, “No…” he said, with a frown, “You know how she is, she’d just say I was faking it and drag me out there anyway,” He sighed, closing his eyes, “I’ll be out in a minute,”

Logan didn’t leave, sitting carefully on the other end of the bed, and Virgil wasn’t inclined to make him leave. He wasn’t inclined to feel bad about those weeks they spent being petty shits either. They had entered a limbo of some sorts and Virgil was glad for the break. They could handle that another time, there has to be other times. 

Virgil just needed to know that someone was still alive. 

\---

“You’re kidding,” Deceit said, eyeing the lineup of teenagers without disguising his contempt. Deceit already had low expectations when the Stranger dragged him into what Deceit assumed was a cobbled together kitchen, but in reality he’d hit rock bottom.

“Fuck you--” Kai snapped, quickly followed by Lauren jabbing him with her elbow, which served to only redirect his anger, “You don’t tell me what to do either--”

Lauren stuck up her nose, not even looking at him, “Someone has to, you can’t be disrespectful,” she said, folding her arms and pointedly moving on the other side of poor, poor Elliot, who looked increasingly frantic as the two bickered. 

Deceit ignored this, “I’m not babysitting,” he said, trying not to wince as that comment somehow spurred an entirely different, irrelevant argument. 

The Stranger sucked on his drink obnoxiously, “You don’t have a choice,” he sang, but the threat in smile was clear, “Though it's strange that you’re putting up such a fight, you didn’t seem that bothered about babysitting Roman,” 

“Roman’s not currently giving me a headache is he?” Deceit groaned, pinching his nose. Though Roman very well might try when he gets back to the room. He wasn’t pleased that Deceit was enforcing his mandatory bedrest because Roman had the intolerable need to be difficult and an even bigger need to do things out of spite. 

The Stranger made a strange clicking noise, before tossing Deceit a phone, “Try not to lose that one,” 

“I didn’t lose it.” Deceit said, scowling at the infernal device. 

“Sure,” The Stranger said, giving a mocking salute, “Don’t kill them,”

And like that he was gone, leaving Deceit to handle this mess.

\---

“My life is shit,” Deceit declared, the door shutting behind him as he shucked off his sweaty shirt.

The physical conditioning had gone as bad as expected. 

Kai had either insisted that Deceit was doing something wrong or just ignored the instructions all together, which only led to pissing Lauren off, leading to another argument. Elliot tended to stay out of the way, but they were easily discouraged and flighty. Deceit had to track them down several times. 

Deceit had hoped that the reading would calm them the fuck down, but apparently The Stranger hadn’t thought to have books translated into a language Elliot could fucking read--which they didn’t tell Deceit about until they were near tears. Then Kai decided the homehowrk was too stupid and kept demanding they spar, meanwhile Lauren had fucked off to who knows where to study in peace. Kai apparently thought that was reason enough to fuck off and do whatever he wanted as well and Deceit was inching towards murder at the speed of light. 

“Oh, it couldn’t have been that bad,” Roman said, glancing up from his book amused, “At least Kai didn’t set anyone of fire this time,” 

“I wish the fucker did,” Deceit grumbled as he stretched, his muscles pleasantly sore, but definitely not worked as hard as they should’ve been. He usually would have, especially since he missed so many weeks of his normal routine but... “Can you keep a secret?” he asked in broken spanish. 

“From who?” Roman said, closing the book, not batting an eye to the change, his attention being devoted to Deceit without hesitation. 

Deceit swallowed, his chest fluttering, “The Stranger,” he said quieter.

Something flickered in Roman’s eyes before he slid on a smile, “Come to bed, Dee,” he whined deceptively sweet as his magic slowly filled the room, curling around Deceit, protecting Deceit. 

Deceit nodded, flipping off the lights letting himself get dragged into bed. Roman curled into him with a deliberate quality, hands tracing the scars on Deceit’s chest as he listed random spanish phrases in a suggestive manner, quite obviously waiting for something. 

“Don’t be so shy,” Roman teased, leaning against Deceit’s chest, his hands trailing lower and lower, “We could alwa--” Roman stopped and he sat up abruptly, “Elliot should be gone,” he said with an odd finality. Deceit could just barely make out how their expression smoothed over into severe with an unnatural ease, “What do you need?”

It was if the pressure in his chest had lifted, “Information,” Deceit said, “I got the chance to read my file at Picani’s and something...something’s been bugging me,” he said, picking his words carefully, “Is there any reason The Stranger would try and...expedite my magic developing?” 

Roman stiffened, the air getting cold, “How is he doing it?” 

“Near deaths, excessive stress,” Deceit listed, swallowing thickly as he felt the air get colder and colder, as if Roman’s magic was the cool grip of the sea, “A… abusive language,” he admitted, “And… when our deal was made he gave me and…” Deceit shook his head, throat tight at the thought, “He gave me the same vial you had,” 

“I’ll kill him,” Roman said.

“He’s immortal, you can’t,” Deceit reminded, but he didn’t believe himself, “It was my fault, anyway, I’m the one who trusted him,” He could hear the river, he could smell Virgil’s blood, he could smell Eden’s blood, “He promised me he’d give me a new life, he promised me power, he promised more,” He picked up Roman’s clenched fist, intertwining their fingers and squeezing, “I just took it, and he’s keeping his promise. I can’t fault that, but I’d like to know more about what he’s planning,” 

The air warmed ever so slightly and he heard Roman sigh, not in relief, but reluctant understanding, “The vial is made of the same stuff watch-dogs are made of,” he said, voice tight, “It's the most accessible, physical form of the Goddess's magic other than me. Him giving it to you is like dropping your magical potential off a cliff and hoping it flies,” he seemed more relaxed, tracing lazy patterns in Deceit’s knuckles, “Using it to wake me up is a given. I’m a Sanders, it only provides me enough of a boost that I can break the curse myself. It's fucking overkill on a human.” 

“What if…” Deceit mulled this information over, “What if I’m only half human?”

Roman’s fidgeting with Deceit’s hand stopped briefly, before resuming, “Still overkill, but it is curious that he could find you,” he hummed, “Shifters are notoriously hard to find and usually don’t associate with Council members, so their half-folk are usually disposed of since they attract the Council’s attention too much.” 

“He knew my mom,” Deceit explained, shortly and if Roman was surprised by Deceit, he didn’t show it, “They had a deal too, but she never told me what it was,” He said, remembering the way she avoided his eyes after meeting up with The Stranger, how she spent the night cradling him--promising it would get better. 

He was used to the lies that comfortably rolled from her tongue; How her bruises didn’t even hurt, how she wasn’t even that hungry to begin with, how nice and forgiving the master wa--

Her promises were something he could never stomach, but he kept believing them until he couldn’t. Afterall, it’s hard to believe a dead woman. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Roman mumbled, “Someone’s been playing this game longer than I thought,” his magic had finally mellowed out, but he didn’t let go of Deceit’s hand. He could practically feel them thinking, half expecting them to pry for more, but they didn’t, letting the silence stretch comfortably before saying, “You’re taking me tomorrow when you babysit the brats,” he said. 

“You’re supposed to be resting,” 

“I can rest from the sidelines,” Rooman said breezily, as if he hadn’t been struggling with keeping himself upright the past couple of days, “You need information, I’ll get you your information,” he promised. 

Deceit believed him. 

\---

Upon walking into the training room, Elliot knew something was wrong. And it wasn’t the general cramped, borderline hazardous state of the room with the overtly cracked ceilings and strange glowing patches growing on the walls. And it wasn’t the fact that Roman was there, sitting in a chair and chatting with Deceit.

No, it was the fact that Kai and Lauren were interacting, willingly. 

Elliot was going to book it, but Lauren was too perceptive for her own good, not even turning around to say _‘Come here,’_

Elliot blinked unsure, before scrambling to the other side, _‘What’s going on?’_ they asked . 

_‘Give me a second’_ She said, before turning to Kai and saying something. Elliot tried not to let the panic set in as Kai gave them a dark look--then again Kai always seemed vaguely angry about something. Even though his magic would do little to Elliot, the thought of being on the end of the ire only made Elliot feel sick and--

Kai signed their consent and Elliot tried not to flinch from the surprise of it.

_‘This is weird,’_ Kai said, eyes flickering warily as he pushed back his dark hair, _‘Don’t get any fucking ideas going through there,’_

Lauren looked like she was going to cut in, but Elliot beat her to it, _‘I wouldn’t,’_ Elliot said, meeting the challenge in Kai’s eyes, _‘Any thought you don’t want to say, I won’t know about,’_ Not unless Elliot forced it and...they never liked doing that. They never liked what that did to people. 

(Dr. Picani wasn’t dead, but he might wish he was at this point. It didn’t really matter what memory Elliot picked at, the sheer act of them being there was enough for Emilie’s body to shut down, for their mind to be sent into a frenzy in a poor attempt to keep themselves safe, for his eyes to roll back and his body to slump to the ground so --) 

Elliot’s wings shuddered, but they kept the tears from their eyes. 

Kai’s glare seemed to soften into a bored look as they fidgeted with the glinting metal on their fingers , _‘ ‘Sure,’_ He said, before pointing to their still distracted mentors, _‘What’s your take on it?’_

Elliot froze, _‘My...take on what?’_

_‘‘Well,’_ Kai raised an eyebrow, _‘They’re fuck-buddies, right?.’_

Lauren’s jaw dropped, expression tied between disgust and outrage, _‘No they’re not,’_ She huffed, _‘They’re in lo~ve,and secretly dating,'_ she said and Elliot could feel the sickly sweet edge her thoughts took on seeping everywhere. 

Kai obviously felt it too, and cringed, _‘Are you sure about that? Aren’t Sanders supposed to save their love for the Goddess or some shit?’_

_‘No…’_ Lauren crossed her arms, looking away, _‘Not any more...I think...’_

_‘Why can’t it be both? ’_ Elliot offered, trying not to flush. 

Lauren and Kai’s eyes snapped to them, as if annoyed at the thought alone. 

Elliot resigned themselves to just listening to them bicker.


	20. Black Hole Sun

Her presence alone commanded attention, even in the blank expanse of The Chambers. You hear the clicking of her heels first, the gracefulness of her step unassuming, but the weight of the thick heels a clear warning for anyone with eyes.

Then you see her-- all six feet of her. Her crown of horns a sterile grey, arching high and easily adding another three inches to her stature. Her strawberry blonde hair trailed behind her, curled and inviting, with her low swooping, scaled tail. 

She only holds one key. She only needs one key. 

She unlocks a door, not sparing a glance at the materialized Guard, instead clearing her throat and prompting them to shut up and knock on the door. 

Dot sat crossed legged on the ground. Her wings were neat behind her as she tilted her head in acknowledgement, “Ms. Annalise Drak’on?” 

Drak’on gave a jagged smile, “So you’ve heard of me,”

\---

Roman woke with a start.

His skin burning and head pounding as he stumbled to the bathroom just as he started heaving. He shuddered, wiping his mouth as he braced himself on the ground, just barely registering Eden’s presence behind him. 

“Go away, ‘m gross, ” Roman groaned, feeling that burning sensation wrap around his throat bringing the threat of tears.

Eden didn’t say anything and Roman wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful for the silence or panicked at the thought that maybe this was too much and he’d finally just leave--

Roman numbly let Eden guide him up to the chair by the bathtub’s edge, swallowing his embarrassment. Eden crouched in front of him, wringing a wet towel before cradling Roman’s face gently and wiping away the remaining bile. 

Eden’s face was impassive as he tugged the edge of Roman’s now sullied dress in silent question. Roman nodded, letting Deceit pull it off him and toss it to the side.

Roman shut his eyes, grasping his arms, feeling the cooler air hit him. He felt wrong, the burning sensation crawling underneath his skin too hot, yet not hot enough. Before Roman could properly spiral, Eden guided his arms up, a heavy fabric slipping over his head, stopping short of Roman’s thighs. 

Roman opened his eyes bleary, “Wha…” he pinched the familiar dark fabric, unable to stop the satisfaction curling in his chest. After returning from Dr. Picani’s The Stranger had gotten Eden new clothes, but Eden had repurposed his dress into a shirt, “You didn’t need to,” he murmured, voice hoarse. 

“I didn’t,” Eden agreed, standing up, “I’ll get you something proper to wear later today,” he said, tousling his hair, and wiping away his face and scales, “Apparently we’re going ‘shopping’ but I don’t know if I should be concerned since Kai was frothing at the mouth and Lauren was panicking all last night about packing a field medical kit,” 

Roman managed a laugh, playing with the red shawl, tying back his hair, “When are we leaving?” he asked, taking internal stock of his body. His limbs were fine, albeit a bit unsteady, there was only the low simmer of nausea threatening to rear its head, but usually that was relatively predictable. 

“You’re not going,” Eden said, pressing a hand to Roman’s forehead with a small frown, “Do you want me to bring anything back?” 

“Why can’t I go?” Roman said, with a pointed look, “You can’t be alone with them.” 

“You’ve already been pushing yourself,” Eden said, “When we get back you can help me go over anything strange the brats let slip out, you won’t be breaking your promise,” 

Roman couldn’t wipe the sour look from his face, “I can be stronger than this,” he said, looking at down at his lap, “I should be stronger.”

“You are strong.”

“But--”

Eden held up a hand, quieting Roman, “I won’t let you kill yourself trying to prove something that I already know,” he said like it was the simple, easy truth, “You are strong, but you need rest. Both can exist.” 

Roman couldn’t protest. 

He wanted that. 

He wanted that freedom so much and Eden made it sound inevitable. 

“Make sure you come back,” Roman said, fiddling the edges of the shirt. 

“I will.” 

\---

The Stranger didn’t bother telling them where they were. The looming architecture of the Sanders Manor was unmistakable, yet different seeing as they were knee-deep in a swamp, Deceit assumed it was one of their “other” homes. 

The Stranger sat atop the barely held together gate, unbothered by the sweltering heat. He munched on some overtly powdered pastry, “Y’all know the drill,” he said, checking his phone with indifference, “Fastest one in gets to choose dinner.” 

The effect was instantaneous. 

Kai was already rushing towards the gate before The Stranger had even disappeared with Lauren quick on his heels. The two fought on the whole way up, dropping unceremoniously to the ground in a pile of bony limbs and curses. Lauren was up first, laughing, and she must have said something because Kai was red faced and frozen on the ground for a few seconds before he stalked after her. 

Deceit blinked, long and slow, _‘Aren’t you going to join them?’_ he asked Elliot who was lingering by the gate. 

_‘Uh, I usually wait outside,’_ Elliot gripped their shirt like a lifeline, _‘Lauren gives me anything she doesn’t want so I’m good,’_

_‘Any reason why?’_

Elliot somehow managed to look even more frantic, _‘I don’t get into the habit of getting eaten,’_ they said, _‘Without any upkeep, those Manors are death traps,'_

Deceit snorted at that, giving the gate a once-over, _‘We're in a swamp, kid,’_ he said, shaking a particularly weak pole in the gate and snapping it.

_‘So?’_

_‘So,’_ Deceit echoed, partially shifting and slipping through the hole and reappearing on the other side with a too wide grin, _‘Lots of things big and small that can hurt you out here. I think you’d fare a lot better where I can see you.’_

Elliot's eyes flickered between the swamp and the house, before they nodded quickly, shrinking down and fluttering past Deceit. 

Deceit sighed watching them go, pushing away his vague nostalgia and instead setting out to find Kai. He sidestepped some statues, his skin crawling as he forced himself to keep going, but it was hard not to flinch every time. There were so many and according to Roman, a lot of them weren’t even familial Sanders. 

The Council apparently was never clear on how far the charges extended, seemingly clumping the prestigious family ‘Sanders’ with the magic folk of the same name-- with little care of how they were distinct from each other. That wasn’t even addressing the fact that the Sanders family commonly hired non-folk from local areas as servants and staff and they apparently had to pay for the alleged crimes for association alone. While the folk had a chance of having a life if the charges were ever dropped, the curse would inevitably kill the humans from the shock of exposure to magic alone. 

Deceit tried to understand the Council’s exact purpose, but every time Roman explained it never made sense. It wasn’t supposed to make sense to non-members, apparently, but Deceit wasn’t sure if they were supposed to make sense to anyone. 

He rounded the corner, ducking under the hanging spanish moss right in time to see Kai crouched in front of a side-door that was probably for kitchen staff. 

Kai must have noticed Deceit staring, “What?” he scowled, not looking up as he used some long tools to mess with the doors lock.

Deceit leaned against the wall, ignoring the sounds of footsteps on the roof, “Where’d you learn to lockpick?’ 

“What hole did Remy find you in?” Kai retorted. 

“Prison.” 

“For what?” Kai asked, something comparable to curiosity edging into their voice. 

That truth was a bit harder, “Alledged murder,” 

Kai whistled low, “Does the alleged part mean you didn’t do it?” 

“It means I never got a trial,” Deceit shrugged, “I was an immigrant and the family housing me didn’t want to vouch for me.” 

Kai didn’t respond to that. He worked silently until something clicked, then he tucked away his tools, stood, and pushed opened the door. 

“My Nonna was a thief,” was all Kai offered, before stepping inside. 

\---

Sleep was elusive for Roman. 

It was a sensation that he constantly ached for but never quite managed to satisfy, everything was usually too loud. Every speck of earth trembled at his slight movement, every droplet of water rushed to listen to him, the air buzzed in anticipation waiting for him to speak and his body ached to do so, but he needed rest.

He knew it. Every doctor, nurse, or nanny he’s ever had knew it, but Roman had never quite managed to release his need for constant awareness. It didn’t feel right under the scrutiny of so many elements at once and it made his skin crawl when they all clambored for his attention. 

When he was younger it was easier because he was never far from his Nanny. When he got a bit older Remus, Lauren, and the triplets normally took turns invading his space and sharing his bed as if understanding that his ever building anxiety got a little bit quieter if he could hear someone else's heartbeat, hear Remus’s sleep babble, or Lauren making up lullabies. 

His father used to indulge him too, but his first wife….she never liked it. Said it made him weaker. More codependent, which was fair. But let it be known he never managed to sleep more than a few hours and the less sleep he got the more his body seemed to strain with the weight of magic festering under his skin.

Which made him weaker. 

It was a cycle Roman had come to loathe.

Roman groaned sleep rushing away from him, but his body grew nauseous at the thought of moving, so he let himself sink into the covers as the world’s whispers grow around him and--

The phone rang, well, Lauren’s phone to be exact, and Roman groaned at the noise. He fucking hated those things, but answered the call regardless, putting it on speaker. 

“You answered,” Eden said.

“You called,” Roman said, closing his eyes. He heard the shouts and crashes in the background. Something that vaguely sounded like ‘Told you, pay up!’ (Lauren) and ‘Fuck you,’ (Kai) He winced through a laugh, “Having fun?” 

“The most fun--” Another crash and Eden cursed saying something under his breath. The room suddenly got deadly quiet.

“What did you tell them?”

“I gave them incentive to leave,” Eden said, shuffling something, “We’re at your swamp house, you got anything you want me to get?” 

“You’re... in my room?” Roman asked slowly.

“One of them, yes,” Eden said, sounding annoyed, “What?” he said and Roman heard some shuffling, “Got something to hide?”

“Not...from you," Roman admitted, mentally trying to remember the room’s layout , “Don’t let Lauren look through my books,” he added on quickly.

“Should I even ask?” Eden sighed.

“You can look if you want,” Roman bit his lip at the thought, “But I doubt it’s your thing,“

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eden said dry, “So any requests?”

“Mmm,” Roman managed to sit up, “Surprise me, make it cute,” 

“Cute,” Eden echoed, with a snort. 

“Yes cute, adorable, enchanting, if you will,” Roman sniffed, dead serious, “If I have to feel gross I at least need to look good, Dee,” 

“You’re already cute,” 

Roman’s breath hitched,“I--” He laughed it off, “Sleep deprived and covered in puke?” 

“No one looks good covered in puke,” Eden reasoned, “But you pull off my clothes pretty well, ”

‘“Are…” Roman covered his face, “--you doing this on purpose?” he whined, feeling thin vines crawl up his knuckles, his face burning at the praise.

He could hear the frown in Eden’s voice, “Doing what on purpose?” 

“You’re fli-” Roman stopped, going still, “Did The Stranger come back early?” he asked in a low whisper.

“No...he’s busy in Australia, ” Eden said, “Is someone else there?”

“I can’t tell…” Roman said, feeling the nausea again, “I guess the council found out about Logan’s masking trick, but The Stranger’s council bond is weaker so it might… but...” 

Roman could hear the clicking of heels first.

She seemed unphased by his magic, barrelling through it with little grace and no remorse. Roman knew he couldn’t stop her, he could hardly stand. 

Seeing her at his door with her grey eyes raking over him wiped away what little strength he had felt. 

He felt like a little kid again.

“What are you doing here,” Roman managed, but his words were faint.

“Roman? Roman what’s going on?” Eden’s voice grew increasingly frantic, but seemed to grow more and more distant. Everything was distant.

She didn’t smile,“Is that any way of talking to your mother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can tell i wrote this chapter when deceit's playlist came out


	21. Forsaken Road (there's a fork in the road)

Upon returning to their room, Deceit immediately noticed several things, but the only thing that mattered was the fact that Roman was okay and breathing. At least, that’s what Deceit hoped. Roman didn’t look up to acknowledge his presence at the door, clutching a paper bag in one hand and a letter in the other. 

“...Roman?--” Deceit flinched as Lauren burst past him, her frantic energy palatable as she inspected and prodded at Roman, questions falling out of her mouth all at once and with little sense. 

“What’s this?” Lauren asked, poking at the paper bag.

Roman looked up, confused, “Medicine,” he said, the words hollow as he tensed, “She… she spoke to Dot…”

Lauren gently pried the bag from Roman’s hands with a thoughtful look, “Why would she…” 

At that Roman’s face hardened, “She wants to prove a point,” he sniped, and Lauren flinched at the surge of magic.

“Who’s she?” Deceit asked.

Lauren winced, “She’s Annalise Drak’on, she comes from an influential family, she’s a council member-- and Roman and Remus’s Mom,”

“She isn’t my mother,” Roman glared at the letter in his lap, “She gave birth to me and nothing else,” he spat, “She left father after he refused to make Remus the heir, and- and,” 

Deceit could see the tears before Roman even started crying, “Lauren, why don’t you take a look at the medications,” He suggested, giving her a pointed look.

Lauren looked pained ,“But--” Another surge of magic, and she flinched, nodding. 

Roman’s magic was getting volatile. 

As soon as she disappeared behind the door, Deceit sighed, sitting down next to Roman, but not touching, “Roman,” he called out and he saw Roman’s anger crack, hot tears trickling down their face, “Roman, what do you need?” 

“It’s too loud…” Roman sniffed, wiping at his face. 

“How...do I make it quiet?” 

“I…” Roman looked lost, face furrowed briefly before he leaned onto Deceit’s shoulder, “You’re too far away,” he mumbled. 

Deceit nodded, wrapping an arm around Roman and letting them bury their head in his chest. They sat there silently, Deceit gently combing through the looser curls in Roman’s hair listening as their breathing steadily mellowed out. 

A little while later Roman finally spoke, “She left because my father wouldn’t make Remus the heir,” he croaked, tracing patterns in Deceit’s shirt, “We were kids at the time, so there couldn’t be a duel, but...she didn’t want to wait,” 

Deceit stilled, “How could she make him heir?” he asked, feeling that submerged rage lick the surface when Roman didn’t immediately answer, “Roman,”

Roman sighed, “I was a very sick child, no one would’ve bat an eye if I just…” he swallowed, “Didn’t make it through the night.” 

Deceit wasn’t surprised, he felt sick at how intimately familiar that was, he felt sick that Roman had to even feel that way, “What did she want, then?”

Roman reached behind him, “She invited us to The Offerings,” he said, the letter thick in hand, the swirling letters glinting gold, “Logan wants a rematch.” 

\---

“A what,” Virgil pulled a face, squeezing out a sponge. He heard Logan perfectly fine, but it sounded like bullshit. In fact everything surrounding the Sanders hierarchy politics sounded like bullshit, but the prime shit was the fact that Logan seemed to buy into it. 

Logan knew Virgil heard him perfectly fine, “A duel,” he repeated, glancing to the doorway to make sure Drak’on wasn’t approaching. 

“But…” Virgil followed his gaze, voice quieting, “I thought you already challenged him,” he said, “And, lost,”

“Yes,” Logan gritted through his teeth, the words dripping with something unrecognizable, “But Ms. Drak’on suspects he cheated by letting Remus take his place,” 

“Ms. Drak’ on thinks so or do you want her to be right?” Virgil mused. 

Logan pursed his lip, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about,” Virgil started, rolling up his sleeves, “She hates your mom and dad, she hates humans even more, yet she seems mighty concerned about about your future,” He pointed at Logan, “You, the culmination of everything she hates,” 

“She believes in my potential,” Logan said. 

“Dr. Picani believed in your potential,” Virgil retorted, lathering up the sponge, “She believes in control, she believes in being right, and has a vendetta against her son,”

“You don’t even like Roman,”

“I sure the fuck don’t,” Virgil snorted, scrubbing away at the floors with a particular fury, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll blindly follow an abelist piece of shit,” 

“She’s not--” Virgil gave him a pointed look.

“Lo, I’m scrubbing the floor because I asked to sit out for today,” Virgil snapped, but he sighed seeing Logan’s guilt, “Just… I know you have that weird fucking people pleaser thing when it comes to adults, but she’s using you,”

“She’s helping us,” Logan’s face was stone, “She’s getting Patton back in time for The Offerings, She’s actively searching The Chambers for Dr. Picani, she’s helping me become more. She believes in ability and proficiency and believes I can be the leader-- that can lead the Sanders back to greatness,” his magic was looming, like a mountain threatening to block the sun, “She knows that I can be great, and doesn’t think me being third son means shit, so yes Virgil I believe her-- you’re just being paranoid,” 

Virgil didn’t bother to hide his pained expression, dropping his gaze to focus on scrubbing, “I believed in you too, you know,” he said, a bitter edge in his tone, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Logan’s shoulders slumped, “I’m...sorry,“ he said, though Virgil didn’t look up, “I know you’re just looking out for me, but…” he swallowed, “This could be my chance. Even if you don’t trust her, you can at least trust me, right?”

Virgil didn’t respond to that.

\---

Let it be known, Kai is nothing if not persistant. 

News of the little invitation spread before Deceit had even left the room. The Stranger seemed pleased, but ultimately not surprised by the invitation. Kai took the news as an excuse to revamp his efforts to start the sparring sessions since there apparently was a competition for the younger Apprentices every year. 

Deceit had relented, partly for the sheer oddity it was seeing Kai use the word please and partly because he’d rather choke then see Kai get his ass handed to him. Though Kai had to beat Lauren before he could even consider sparring against Deceit, seeing as he was about a hundred pounds wet and ridiculously reliant on his magic. 

Lauren was the natural choice. Elliot had a similar weight to Kai, but was horrifically undertrained and much too flighty to allow themselves to follow through with a fight. Lauren was classically trained, naturally resistant to Kai’s pain illusions due to her heightened perception, and was physically stronger then Kai--but not in a way that could break him. 

Kai had complained of course, but after the first couple of losses he shut up pretty quick. 

Around lunchtime, Roman arrived with their books

Roman was still adjusting to the medications, which left him even more nauseous and plagued him with headaches, but he had started to gain back his strength, especially since Annalise granted him temporary immunity to the effects of the curse. Deceit also suspected that Dot had purposely picked some medications with sedative effects because Roman was sleeping a lot more deeply, the darkness lingering under their eyes getting lighter and their breakdowns becoming less common and less magically charged. 

Usually once they get to the reading part, the brats took it as their cue to fuck off, but today they stayed put. Lauren started helping Elliot go through their English flashcards while Kai pretended to read his history book. 

Deceit blinked, unnerved, “Why do they only do this when you’re here?” he asked, turning around to resume cooking his eggs. 

Roman leaned against the counter, gaze flickering to the table and then back to Deceit, “They’re nosy,” he said, an undeniable mirth on his lips as he stirred his pudding. 

“About what?” Deceit frowned, turning off the stove.

“Us,” Roman said with a shrug.

That only caused Deceit to frown even more. Elliot wasn’t a gossip, so it isn’t like they had something particularly scandalous to fixate on. Roman must have knew his train of thought because they added on, “They probably heard the rumors beforehand,” he explained, “There’s most likely a bet going on so they’re trying to be around us more to ‘catch’ something,” 

“To catch what?” 

“Try this, ” Roman said, ignoring the question, holding up a spoon full of pudding. Deceit opened his mouth without thinking, humming approvingly at the sweetness.

Roman snorted.

“What?” 

“It’s…” Roman’s head tilted, “You’re so obedient…” he said, licking the spoon with a smug smile, “Even your magic feels moldable, I wonder if that’s why...” he trailed off, studying Deceit, “I have an idea,” 

Deceit was all too familiar with Roman’s little ideas “Should I be worried?”

\---

Deceit stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair.

Roman perked up in the bed, smoothing their white lace nightgown, “Finally,” he said patting the space beside himself, “Come here-- take your shirt off,”

Deceit raised an eyebrow, “Is this appropriate?” he said, shrugging off the shirt. 

“Depends,” Roman hummed, eyes roving Deceit, “How comfortable are you with me touching your scales?” 

Deceit raised his hand to touch the non-existent scales on his face on instinct.

He hasn’t thought about his scales in awhile, but that could be attributed to his general avoidance of mirrors and how infrequent he used that face nowadays. He searched himself for the normal knee-jerk disgust he felt at the scales, but found nothing more than a low simmering distaste. 

“Not my face,” Deceit admitted, relieved when Roman nodded without further questioning. 

Even if the thought of Roman touching his scales wasn’t entirely repulsive, a small part of him felt exposed at the thought. The scales on his body held no more weight to him then the scars they collided with, but his face--something was more revealing about it. 

His face was unblemished, but painfully marked in a way that reminded him that his dream wasn’t possible as long as he was nothing at his core. 

Roman’s hand settled on Deceit’s shoulder, the long sleeves of the night gown tickling, “How… does my magic feel to you?” he asked, brow furrowed as he began to trace a long, branched scar curling around Deceit’s arm.

Roman’s magic was subdued now, like a low burning fire, and it pulsed gently as if asking permission to get brighter, “Inviting,” Deceit said, searching for the words, “Familiar….” His breath caught, another word playing on his tongue but he swallowed that and the emotions that surged at the thought alone, “How does mine feel?” 

Roman stopped his path at Deceit’s elbow, twisting their arm slightly to inspect the particularly patchy burns there, “Too good to be true,” he said, offhandedly as if commenting to himself, “A dream, a fantasy, ” 

Deceit must have looked confused because Roman then elaborated, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not as good with people as I am the earth-- and I’m not even that good with the earth,” he said, “People normally find my magic suffocating-- even my own body, but you seem to lean into it.” 

Deceit leaned back, bracing himself on his forearms, “How so?” 

Roman didn’t answer him, instead they smiled, splaying their hand on Deceit’s chest and dragging it down, iridescent then gold scales following the path and replacing the jagged skin. 

“Ho- how are you doing that?” Deceit choked, unable to stop watching and woefully unwilling to shy away from Roman’s magic slinking around his own. 

“You’re letting me,” Roman said, retracing the path, scales disappearing easily beneath his skin, “So obedient, so...” Roman bit his lip, “You even feel a bit like me now,” his hand lingered over the gash on Deceit’s stomach, “Being able to shift physical appearance is one thing, but if you can reshape your magic so easily you can become untraceable or…”

Deceit could see the wonder flickering behind Roman’s eyes and-- he would be lying if he said he didn’t hang onto their every word.


	22. Fly Me to the Moon (I)

“Are the rest of the brats getting ready?” Roman asked, picking up a comb and a jar of moisturizer. 

“Uh-- I think so?” Lauren winced sitting back, “I wouldn’t know, Kai’s being… weird,” Roman ran their hand experimentally through the now kinkier coils in her hair, the light tugging of her scalp painfully nostalgic. 

She’d always prefered her hair straight, but she never went so long without taking a break. It was mainly luck that she hadn’t had any major heat damage, but even that fear didn’t make the idea any more appealing. 

You could say she was avoiding it in a way.

Her mom had always insisted on braiding Lauren’s hair herself, so the act was tangled with her in every way. Doing it by herself now only made her mom’s absence louder, but having Roman here made it better. 

“Weird how?” Roman asked, detangling her hair, “Is he getting pissy about getting his ass kicked?” 

“No…” She said, bracing herself, “That’s why it's weird. He’s not complaining, he’s avoiding me,” She sighed, feeling strangely annoyed. It wasn’t like she liked the constant arguing, but this was just odd…. Did she do something wrong? 

Why does she even care?

Roman’s hands stopped mid braid, “Oh,” he hummed before resuming, “Maybe he’s just in a mood,” he said, a laugh peeking through his tone. 

“What?” Lauren demanded. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Roman snickered, “I’m just thinking about how pretty you’re going to be in that dress,” he cooed, pinching her cheek and effectively smearing whatever moisturizer he was using all over her cheek. 

“Gross,” Lauren scowled to keep the smile from her face, “Anyway you’re too calm about this,” she said, her worry bubbling at the thought of just… walking into Council territory, “Do you really believe Drak’on’s going to play fair?”

It could go a lot of ways. 

Logan was fair to a fault, so she wasn’t worried about dirty tricks from him. But he was predictable in a dangerous way. He had a never ending consistency that tended to wear people down. Roman wasn’t as unpredictable as Remus, but he had a similar quality. He couldn’t afford to trust that his body and magic would perform the same way every time, so he had to be creative, and more than often had to run himself ragged. 

“Are you worried?” Roman asked, but it was more like an observation. 

“You should be,” Lauren grumbled.

“I’m not,” Roman said.

She was oddly comforted by the finality of the promise.

\---

Upon opening the letter, they were taken in a flash of light. 

They first saw a glittering series of arcs that were almost translucent. It was as if the towering structure was merely ideas carved into the stars, but it solid beneath their feet. Deceit wasn’t sure how he was breathing with the world so far beneath him, with the stars so close.

The Offerings were a series of events, of elaborate ceremonies, of balls. A celebration at it's finest, but preformative grief at its core. Councilmen decked out in elaborate gowns and ancient suits milled inside the glittering gates, magic flowing from people’s tongues as easy as they laughed. 

The brats were pretty much gawking, but thankfully they didn’t wander off. 

Roman’s face betrayed nothing but unapologetic decadence. Their hair braided high before exploding into a fire of curls and flowers. All signs of exhaustion were wiped clean behind rosy lips and impossibly dark lashes that were stark against his eyes. Roman was in his element to anyone with eyes, but his death grip on Deceit’s arm told another story. 

Which to be fair, was expected. They were deep in Councilmen territory, with their invitation only being allowed due to the technicalities of their situation--i.e all the alleged crimes not being directly linked to anyone, but The Stranger-- and Drak’on’s disturbing amount of influence. 

Still Deceit knew that wasn’t it, “Roman?” He said, the question hanging in the air between them as they handed off their bags. 

“The curse,” Roman sighed, “Even if I have temporary immunity, I keep expecting to...It’s more mental than anything,” he explained, low, “It shouldn’t be a problem, but...forgive me if I’m a bit more clingy,” 

“That’s it?” He said scrutinizing them. They'd gotten better at actually vocalizing their limits lately, but Deceit knew he’d be more willing to cover it up in order to not cause a scene. 

“E… Darling... tonight will be fine,” Roman promised. He tilted his head, horns catching the light and his eyes having a hungry glint, “You trust me?”

Deceit was breathless, “Something like that.”

\---

Virgil stirred the brothy, something, in front of him, mildly impressed by how shiny the utensils were, but mostly getting sick by how rich everything tasted. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to eating “good” food, in fact from what he could remember he was most likely used to it, but there was a different level of luxury here. It was almost irritating.

Actually a lot of things were irritating, the key one being that his supposed date fucked off to schmooze with rich bastards, but the most alarming part of that was that Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Logan at all right now.

It was all duel this and duel that lately. About how this is what he always deserved, how he’ll somehow become better--how everything will become better once he finally puts this to rest and claim his rightful place. Virgil’s beginning to suspect that Logan didn’t even realize how obsessed he was getting with it. 

In fact, Virgil suspected that Logan’s always been obsessed with this, but Dr. Picani never let him fixate on that need entirely. Even if Dr. Picani was low-key just as dysfunctional as his Apprentices, the man was disgustingly determined to create a somewhat functional life for them. 

But Dr. Picani was gone, even if they found him-- his consciousness had yet to return. All they had now was Ms. Annalise Drak’on, someone who apparently had no issue with feeding Logan’s obsession. 

Virgil felt sick. 

He stood, not caring about how loudly he dropped the utensils or about the dirty looks sent his way as he pushed his way through the crowd. The band was some pseudo-jazz, a thundering accompaniment to his rising anxiety and the dazzling lights were getting too much and--

His spiraling halted upon catching the faintest blue flash in the corner of his eye. Turning around he met Patton’s eyes. Virgil flinched and for the briefest moment Patton’s brow furrowed, before smoothing into his normal dazed expression, “You’re alone?”

Virgil wanted to scowl, but he couldn’t. He was alone and he wasn't sure how long its been draining away at him. 

Patton nodded at his non-response, “You need air,” he said, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. It took a few seconds before Virgil realized he was meant to follow. 

Virgil somehow found himself out of the crowd, feeling the cool air first, and the relief of being away from all of those people all at once. Patton was already there leaning against the balcony, the translucent beads of their gown soft against the blue of the distant earth. 

Patton turned his head to acknowledge him, “Is this better?” 

“I think so,” Virgil sighed, slumping against the balcony, “Uh… thanks, I guess,” Patton laughed, an off colored chirp that normally unnerved Virgil, but now only made him blush, “What?” 

“I don’t scare you anymore, do I?” Patton said, covering his mouth. 

“I was never--” Virgil winced at the lie, “Was I that obvious?” 

“Yes, but…” Patton started, trailing off, “I didn’t mind completely,”

Virgil frowned, “You didn’t mind me being an asshole?” 

“I minded,” Patton said, “But at least you didn’t hide it,” he shrugged as if that explained it all, “I knew Logan and Emile cared about me, but… it was like they were afraid to admit that they didn’t always feel safe,” 

“...Should we feel safe?’ Virgil said, twisting and untwisting the loose hair. 

Patton didn’t respond immediately, tracing the rail, “I wish you could, but I…” he sighed, “Watchdogs aren’t meant to be outside the colonies for long without a bond...we aren’t built for that. When I’m home I can feel-- I’m in control,” he said, “But here, it feels like all I can do is take orders and hope, there’s nothing else there,” His face twisted unnaturally, but his eyes remained blank. 

“Why…” Virgil tore his gaze away, “After Remus….Why didn’t you go to Roman?” he asked. It seemed simple, just go to another Sanders, a legal, full magic Sanders--

“I wasn’t in love with Roman,” Patton said, with no theatrics, but the simplicity throbbed with something intense, “Why didn’t you die in the river?” 

“I-” Rushing water, blood everywhere,it was only supposed to be a game, it was a game it was a game, it was a game, “I didn’t want to die.” 

“You’re lying,” Patton said, matter of fact.

Virgil blew out his cheeks, “I got lucky,” he admitted. Lucky that he wasn’t deemed enough of a threat by the other two. Lucky that the vial seared in his hand instead of in his eyes or down his throat. Lucky that at the end of the day, he thought it was a just game. Something stupid to do before church. 

If only he knew that it was The Stranger’s Game he was playing. 

“Well...I’m glad you were lucky,” Patton said quietly, “I wouldn’t have met you and I certainly wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I did without you two…” 

Virgil’s throat tightened, “I…” he wiped his eyes, “Why do I feel like that’s a goodbye?” he choked out a bitter laugh. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Patton smiled, “You could always visit the colonies,” he said wistfully, and Virgil swore he glowed a little bit brighter, “I might be a bit...different there, but it's a good different,” 

“...Can you tell me more about it?” Virgil asked.

Patton did. 

He told Virgil about the fountains-- how water dripped like fire, but was icy to the touch. He talked about how young watchdogs burned holes in their cribs and terrorized their families. About the family dinners, with plates overflowing with food--how each story and laugh was never the same. 

He told Virgil about how the community grew closer and took care of each other in spite of the stricter regulations. About how they’re even planning to build their own schools instead of relying on council tutors. He told Virgil about his mom and dad, about how they missed him, but understood he wanted to see his friends. He told Virgil about everything he missed and hated and seemed to glow a little bit brighter with each second. 

Virgil doesn’t know why, but it felt nice. It sounded nice--talking to Patton was nice in a way that Virgil didn’t even know he missed. It's been awhile since he just...had fun. 

The music changed, to something delicate--a soft piano, followed by a low, breathy voice. Patton’s voice trailed off and he closed his eyes swaying to the lullaby.

Virgil asked him for a dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hii 
> 
> the next chapter after this will be the last of the updates for a little while. i'll try to write the next set of chapters before band camp starts next month, but if it takes a little longer then that know that i'm probably exhausted somewhere guzzling water and covered in bug bites


	23. Fly Me to the Moon (II)

“It’s almost time,” Roman murmured, passing Deceit a silver key, “You know your way to the room?” 

Deceit nodded, “Are you sure you don’t want Lauren there with you?”

Roman tilted his head towards Lauren--who was laughing with Elliot, “I wouldn’t want to ruin her fun...What?”he asked. 

Deceit lips quirked and he gently grasped Romans chin, forcing them to face him, “If you need me, just call,” he said, not leaving room for argument. 

“Of course I will,” Roman said, not wavering, “We’re partners.” 

\---

Below the ballroom, there was a crystal staircase spiraling down, down, down. It passed the guest rooms, it passed the kitchen, it passed the gardens, and the pools, it passed the shrines, the statues, it even passed the wine cellar. Where it stopped, was still up for debate, but where the duel was taking place was most comparable to a pit. 

It wasn’t a filthy pit, it was a humongous concave glass room with spectators eagerly spectating on the outside, wine glasses in hand. It was a dueling room specifically made for the occasion, with walls too slick for escape, and too artificial to be manipulated. Inside the gigantic fishbowl were a series of the elements that could be manipulated, ranging from small mountains, to man-made lakes, to coals, ect. 

Ms. Annalise Drak’on certainly knew how to put on a show, such a shame that she was nowhere in sight--She was called out for business seconds ago. 

Logan wasn’t worried. He had no reason to be, this was an inevitability after all those years ago when he first challenged Roman, when he first lost. 

There were a lot of reasons Logan doubted that he really lost, one of them being the fact that Roman had been atrociously ill for weeks on end afterwards-- he couldn’t even stand, so how could they last an entire fight? Logan knew Remus doted on Roman, it wasn’t a stretch to consider that he would’ve taken his brother’s place in the duel. Two; it was the only reasonable outcome. Logan was the most technically sound, he was the most consistent, he was everything his father had ever wanted. 

So he deserved to win. 

Logan had felt Roman before he saw them. Everyone did. The light clicking of heels only faintly registering after the oppressive heat of their magic. Roman was a fire clothed in black, with an expression some could describe as a boredom. 

Logan would describe it as arrogance. An uncomfortable cruelty played on Roman’s lips as he entered the fishbowl and locked eyes with Logan.

“You’re late,” Logan said, hyper aware of how their audience hushed, anticipation building with each whisper and exchange of money. 

Roman didn’t respond, stretching his arms, an audible crack echoing. 

Logan’s lips pursed, “The silent treatment?” he said unimpressed, “Really?” 

Roman gave him a flat look before rolling up his silk sleeves.

Logan took that as his cue to begin. 

\---

Jagged stone erupted, hot on Roman’s trail and Logan gritted his teeth as they evaded time after time again. Not once attacking Logan back. 

“Is this a joke to you,” Logan hissed, wings fluttering as he launched himself over the rubble. All around them, the crowd’s fever had grown, the shouts and jeers poison to Logan’s ears. 

Roman tumbled in front of him, just barely missing the water's edge. He pushed his hair from his face, standing up with tightly coiled shoulders, raising an eyebrow at the question. 

Logan knew they had to break eventually. He could see Roman’s irritation each time he was tossed around and nearly pummeled. No one liked being cornered, it made people reckless, and Logan knew reckless was the one thing Roman couldn’t afford to do. 

He strode towards them with purpose, tremors pulsing each step. 

Roman wouldn’t use his magic? 

Fine.

Logan settled into his stance, raising his chin, “Fight me, or leave.” 

Roman’s eyes flickered dangerously, his smile sharp as he mimicked Logan’s stance. 

To an on looker, you wouldn’t have been able to tell who swung first, but once they gained momentum it was brutal. Logan had been the one getting in most of the hits, but Roman was light on his feet, always evading, evading, evading. The Damn Coward. 

Then, Logan caught Roman’s arm, jolting the earth at the same time catching them off guard. He twisted them around, letting the debris crash down with them. And like that it was over, Logan had won, he could breathe.

“Yield,” Logan, rasped, squeezing, satisfied by how Roman recoiled in his grip, pain intense in their eyes. Dust billowed all around them, covering Roman’s defeat, but it wouldn’t be long until it settled, all Logan had to do was wait till it settled. 

All Roman had to do was yield.

“Fuck. You,” Roman spat, voice mangled and thick and Logan froze, heart still. 

Ever so innocently a trickle of blood ran down the side of Roman’s cheek, the scratch a nasty smear in the midst of the grime. A sign of humanity at its finest and Logan felt sick. 

Then Roman's eyes slitted a dangerous yellow, a too sharp smile.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Logan choked out.

Deceit twisted unnaturally, slamming his head into Logan’s. Pain seared in Logan’s head as he was thrown into the dust, Deceit stalking after. Before Logan could stand up he felt two, steady hands grip his shoulders, keeping him pinned to the ground. 

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Deceit grunted, the spanish fouled with a strange accent, “You’re going to get the fuck over this bullshit and leave us alone,” he said, teeth twisting sharp, “Today Roman won and you’ll get over it,” 

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Logan snarled, thrashing, but their body throbbed at how they tightened their grip. This didn’t make any sense, he’s fought Deceit before and while he was stronger physically, Logan doubts he was always this overwhelmingly strong unless…

Deceit had always been a liar so was it really a stretch that he lied about that as well?

“He won the duel the first time,” Deceit said cold, “He doesn’t need to prove it again, ” his eyes narrowed, predatory, “And It doesn’t matter who you think deserves it,” 

“Then what does matter,” Logan said, the ground shaking underneath them, but Deceit refused to budge. He felt his energy draining, he couldn’t-- he couldn’t keep doing this, but he had to, “If it isn’t about strength, if it isn’t about skill, then what the _fuck_ does matter,” 

At that, Deceit’s face darkened, “It’s about who wants it more,” he said, the words slipping off his tongue like he’s said it many times before, “It's about who’ll keep going even if they have nothing left to go on,” he loosened his grip, not enough for Logan to break free, but enough that they knew he didn’t consider Logan a threat right now, “And obviously you want to be heir more.” he said, “So you can have it,” 

“What…” Logan blinked, the words foreign, “You can’t decide that--”

“I can’t,” Deceit agreed, “But Roman did-- he’s making a deal with Drak’on right now,”

“And… Why all of this?” Logan closed his eyes, dread rising, “--What’s the catch?” 

“When that dust settles, Roman will be declared the uncontested winner in front of all of those people, ” Deceit murmured, “But in a couple of months…” he dragged his tongue across his teeth, “You’ll be crowned heir.”

Logan Sanders would be a fraud.

\---

Deceit found the room easy enough, passing slipping into invisibility and avoiding the chaos that followed the duel. People straggled in the halls stinking of alcohol and with their elaborate clothes in dissaray. 

Deceit unlocked the door to their room, easing open the door carefully. The room was dark, with the only light coming in from the silk curtains in front of what Deceit assumed to be a balcony. There was a door connecting their room to the brats room, if all the noise was anything to go by. Deceit didn’t bother going to check on them. 

Roman’s earlier clothes scattered in a pile beside the bed, along with his sash and an open bottle of wine. Deceit sighed, making his way to the balcony.

“Was it that bad?” Deceit said, making sure to keep his voice low as he stepped through the curtains. 

“I hate her,” Roman said, looking up, his eyes puffy and face scrubbed raw. Deceit knew they had been crying, but they didn’t look upset anymore, only at peace. 

“But it's over,” Deceit said, eyeing the wineglass. 

“It is over,” Roman agreed, setting down the glass. They uncurled themselves, tugging Deceit’s black shirt down in a halfhearted attempt to maintain some modesty, “The papers should be drafted and signed within the next week or so and then… she just has to hold up her end of the deal.” 

“Will she?”

“She has no reason not to,” Roman shrugged, “She got what she wanted. I wish she didn’t, but…” He sighed, tilting his head back, “Lauren needs her mom. I--” his voice cracked, “I can’t believe I’ll get to see them again.” 

Deceit felt a familiar, bitter ache rise in him, “We should get to bed,” he said, trying to muster the strength to turn away, to get away. He couldn’t keep his anger locked up for forever, but he wouldn’t let it ruin this--he couldn’t let it ruin Roman. 

“Wait, Eden--” Roman said , face scrunched up. Deceit couldn’t hide his flinch at the name, “Eden… Thank you for tonight,” he said, playing with a stray curl.

Deceit was not above using his magic to hide his blush, “You don’t need to thank me every time,” he said, clearing his throat, “We’re friends,” Partners. 

“That’s why I’m going to thank you every time,” Roman said, smiling wide, “Eden, you care about me and I like that. I care about you, so if there’s anything you want you can ask, y’know that right?”

Wanting was dangerous to indulge in and Deceit had already indulged enough just by letting Roman this close. It only made Deceit want to get even closer. It made everything more distracting, it made Roman distracting. Little things that Deceit normally didn’t normally notice came sharply into focus and-- “Don’t call me that,” Deceit blurted out instead. 

Roman froze, eyes wide, “Call you what?”

“ I-” Deceit sighed, “...Eden-- I don’t want you to call me Eden,” he said, swallowing, “It isn’t my name... He isn’t me. I wanted it, but… I can’t have it,” he said.

_‘I can’t have him’_ Deceit reminded himself, “Every time I hear it-- every time I see myself I see--” 

**(Blood. So much blood.)**

“You don’t have to explain,” Roman whispered, staring at something--

Deceit reached up to his face, but he felt no scales-- still Roman was staring, he was staring, he knew--

“Darling?” Roman’s voice gently broke through Deceit’s thoughts, “What do you want me to call you?

Deceit could finally exhale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, as stated in the earlier chapter it'll be awhile till the next update. until then thank you for reading!


	24. Devil's Food

“Janus,” Roman slurred his name, half awake and slumped against Deceit.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary by any means, but somehow something was different in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was how their sleep-rough voice was so much more vulnerable, the magic laced in his tone more-so an innocent suggestion than a command. 

Or perhaps Deceit was drawn to Roman’s blatant display of trust--how his oversized sleeping shirt was carelessly hiked up revealing how Roman’s freckles grew into swirls and smears that shaped his abdomen into something distinctly inhuman--as if the forest had been branded across their skin. Maybe it was the way Roman’s legs pressed into Deceit--skin a never-ending furnace, maybe...

But none of that was new.

And this--whatever this was, clearly was new because--

“Janus, what time is it?” Roman yawned, arching his back before sighing into the comically large pillows again.

Somehow Deceit found it the most distracting thing in the world. Sleeping with Roman had never been suggestive, at least not in any serious way. And even if Roman had gotten into one of his moods, Deceit was pretty comfortable with ignoring any fleeting attraction he felt. 

Then again, it was easy to kill desire when you were constantly reminded why you never deserved it to begin with. 

“What?” Roman sniffed, sitting up and pulling the blanket around his shoulders. 

“It’s near noon,” Deceit answered instead, “The brats have that competition today...” he eyed Roman cautiously as they seemed to nod off, “Are you good for today?”

“‘Mmm good,” Roman nodded, smile sleepy, “I feel really good,”

Deceit leaned against the headboard, “Are you…” he narrowed his eyes, “drunk?”

“Mmm, my Sanders genes are too strong-- can’t get drunk,” Roman said, slinking back into the bed, “But the room... it’s really quiet here… ” he sighed, “Are you sure we can’t stay in?”

“And do what?” Deceit entertained. 

Roman looked up through half-lidded eyes, “I have a few ideas,” he purred before bursting out into snickers. 

“I’m waking up the brats,” Deceit said, rolling his eyes when Roman whined in protest, “Attempt to be dressed when I get back,” he slid out of the bed, making his way to the door that connected the rooms. 

After gently waking up Elliot and not so gently dragging Lauren and Kai out of the bed, Deceit made his way back to their bedroom. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Roman did indeed get dressed. The simple, white turtleneck elaborate, frilly skirt a stark difference to the military blazer, embroidered with gold from the night before. 

While Roman messed with his hair, Deceit inspected the different outfits pulled out for him, “Got any preferences?” he asked, picking at a black dress. 

At this point Roman had put his hair up into twin-buns, slicking back his edges, , “Maybe a more traditionally feminine shift?” he mused, turning from the mirror to give Deceit a considering look. 

Deceit nodded, letting his features soften and round out, but he kept his hard line of muscles. Pushing the longer hair behind his ear, he tugged off his clothes and picked up the dress, quickly realizing the simple dress had a trail of gold laces and buttons trailing it's spine. Not completely intimidated, Deceit unbuttoned it, but upon sliding the dress on, he realized he wouldn’t be able to reach all of the buttons. 

Roman caught on to Deceit’s struggle quick, “Let me,” he said, slipping behind Deceit. His hands reached inside the dress, barely skimming Deceit’s skin as he pulled on some ties on the inside and started lacing Deceit up.

“Why are clothes so complicated,” Deceit complained, keeping his face straight. 

Roman pulled the dress taunt, “I mean...” his hand rested on Deceit’s waist as he leaned down slightly, breath brushing Deceit’s ear, “It does look so good on you,”

Deceit shivered, “You…” he cleared his throat, “You’ve been teasing a lot this morning.” he said, keeping his voice steady. 

Roman immediately pulled his face away, “Is it a problem?” he asked. Even though he didn’t remove his hand, Deceit knew for a fact that all he had to do was ask and it’d be gone. It’d be so easy, so simple, but--

“No,” Deceit said, “I don't mind….I….I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea,” 

Deceit could feel them staring, “...Of course,” Roman finally said after a while, starting to button the dress without further question. Still, something about his tone was too gentle. He was too close and yet, Deceit couldn’t push them away. 

He could do so easily before, but now…

Deceit distinctly felt his little wants grow into something too strong to ignore.

\---

Compared to other wonders found at The Offerings, the room hosting the competition for the younger Apprentices was oddly mundane. It was a disorienting mixture of too-bright fluorescent lights and the squeaking of sneakers. 

Kai rushed past the unassuming attendant holding a clipboard, his energy palatable. Elliot followed after, ducking into the bleachers.

Lauren walked behind the two distractedly talking to Roman, “It’s just so boring, why does there need to be an entire chapter about white symbolism,”

Roman followed after, “I don’t--” he stopped abruptly, clipboard blocking his way.

“Only mentors are allowed to enter,” The attendant said, not looking up. 

Deceit stiffened, ignoring Roman’s tightening grip, “Excuse me?” 

“I said--” The Attendenet looked up and sputtered, wide-eyed, “Uh- You’re the Heir,” 

“Yes, yes he is,” Lauren said, eyes narrowed, “Can they come in now? It's starting soon”

The Attendant ignored her, “I’m sorry, sir,“ he didn’t sound sorry, but at least he had the decency to sound afraid, “I still can’t let you in unless you’re a mentor and um… you’re not a mentor. ” 

Roman fixed on a polite smile, “Can I ask why?” 

“No you can’t--” The attendant froze. Roman wasn’t sure what Deceit did, but it certainly got the attendant to talk, “Uh, sorry it's just-- it’s to prevent councilmen from poaching on each other’s Apprentices-- I really can’t let you in. It ends at 5 though, so you can come back then?” the words rushed out all at once, as they shrunk behind their clipboard.

“Of course,” Roman said, eyes redirecting to Lauren, “Be good.” 

“Sure,” Lauren grumbled, making her way to the bleachers. 

Seeing that Lauren found Elliot, Roman tugged Deceit along back to the staircase. 

“What a shame,” Roman sighed, “I wanted to see if Kai got himself kicked out,”

“I could convince him to let us in,” Deceit said. 

“We wouldn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention,” Roman retorted, head conveniently tilted in the direction of a video-only security camera, “Plus, you’re dead, remember?”

“That only means I’d be harder to trace,” Deceit said, contemplatively and Roman laughed.

The two wandered around, peeking into rooms that ranged from sprawling parks to more… intimate spaces. Roman had only vaguely mentioned what he was looking for, but Deceit was content with exploring. 

Exploring the shape of Roman’s hand in his, their slender fingers light to the touch and unnaturally smooth. Exploring how their pin-straight posture hardly faltered and how even their most graceless steps still had poise. How in the light their eyes weren’t simply silver, but always had a barely perceptible shifting shimmer of colors. And his lips-- Deceit could never get their lips right. 

He could never get Roman right, at least not by himself. It was always evasive, something more ethereal then simply copying the paleness in their eyes and the dimples in their smile. 

The one time he’d gotten close was when he was prepping for the Duel. Roman spent most of the night correcting Deceit’s errors until he could replicate every feature with near perfection. He remembered how Roman coaxed his magic into something far too significant for Deceit to even imagine and how this mimicked magic burned deep, an endless coil that was never satisfied. 

Roman had been worried about how long Deceit could handle maintaining the illusion, Deceit had been worried if he’d ever wanted to stop. 

It hadn’t been the first time he had been lost in the allure of becoming, but this was different. Beforehand, it was a cheap trick The Stranger taught them. A throwaway spell, a stupid game if you will. Switch faces, switch lives, and for a little while, Deceit got to play the prized son, adopted from the streets and raised with love while Eden got to play at being invisible. 

Even when those damn vials got involved, it never felt this dangerous. Deceit understood that now. By himself, he could take the shape, he could take it all eventually--the voice, its cadence and accent, how they smile, how they laugh. But Roman’s influence made the illusion real--he made it believable with little corrections that stood as commands themselves. 

They worked well together. Too well. 

The Stranger had wanted them to be close. That asshole had always wanted Deceit to keep an eye on Roman, to tend to Roman, as if trying to enforce control over something that didn’t need to be controlled. It was too intentional and Deceit didn’t like that one bit.

Deceit would uphold his part of the agreement of course. He’d be The Stranger’s glorified dog, who kneels and growls when told, who lies until there’s nothing left. But that didn’t mean he had to let The Stranger influence his relationship, even if they ended up at the same place in the end. 

It scared him a lot; this desire, this love, but what scared him more was the prospect of it no longer being his to choose. 

\---

Roman had found the library with a few hours to spare before the competition ended. He had wandered away from Janus after awhile, scanning titles in the Foreign Language section with a critical gaze. 

He’d been trying to work out Janus’s accent for a while now. Sure he could just ask, but Roman liked the thrill of investigation and he loved the thrill of being right.

Right now he figured that Janus had lived in Italy for a little while-- seeing as whenever they spoke Spanish it was always just a little off in either vocabulary or how they pronounced words. Roman also suspected a few others like Romanian and German, but right now he was looking into Slavic languages. 

He spotted a set of translation books near the top shelf and pulled up a chair--and when that wasn’t enough, he stacked another chair on top of that chair. He wasn’t short but compared to other Drak’on’s you could argue he was stunted. Still, even with his heels and the chairs the bookshelves in this library were freakishly big.

Roman briefly considered untucking his shirt so his wings could help out, but before that could be a thing he stumbled trying to catch the book while simultaneously forgetting to keep his balance. However, before Roman hit the ground two steady hands caught his waist. 

“Can’t I leave you alone for two minutes?” Janus murmured, raising an eyebrow. 

Roman grinned sheepish, leaning back against their chest, “It isn’t recommended,” he said half dazed. “You can…” Roman squirmed in their grip, “You can let me go now,” 

“I’ll consider it,”. 

“What do you mean you’ll--” Roman squawked as Janus scooped him up, “Janus,” Roman pouted, “Lemme goo-,”

“I thought you liked being carried?” Janus mused, making his way down the aisle. 

“I…” Roman slumped defeated, “Shut up,” he groaned, pointedly watching the carpet as Janus carried them past the rows and rows of books to a smaller alcove nestled in the back. Upon seeing the stack of books already there, Roman squirmed out of Janus’s shoulder falling into the pile of pillows, “Aw you picked out my favorites,” 

Janus settled next to Roman, “You gave me a list,” he said, dry.

Roman thumbed the spine of Alice in Wonderland, “You follow directions wonderfully,” he shrugged, “Did you see anything you liked?” 

“I don’t read for fun,” 

Roman blew out his cheeks, “I never said it had to be a book,” he huffed, leaning against Janus’s shoulder, “There’s plenty of stuff around here, I’m sure you could find something for a souvenir,” 

Janus frowned, “....Souvenir?” he echoed. 

Roman paused, briefly confused before realization hit, “A keepsake, memento if you will,” he tried to articulate, “Something... physical to remember this place.” Janus nodded in understanding, “So did you have anything in mind…?”

For a split second, Janus’s face was unbearably soft before it smoothed into hardened resolve, “I do,” he said, vaguely, but before Roman could question them further, he had grasped Roman’s chin, drawing their full attention, “Kiss me?”

Roman’s mind short-circuited, “What…” he frowned, “ Can you what?”

“I want to kiss you,” Janus said slowly, “Is that okay?”

“Yes…” Roman stuttered, “Of course it is, but…” he didn’t want to ask, but he had to, “Would it just be a one-time thing? I’d still care about you, but I don’t think I could..it’d be…” 

Too much.

Janus’s answer was to close the distance.

The kiss was tentative-- brief, but terribly gentle, “I want this,” he promised, brushing a stray curl from Roman’s face, “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I want you, I enjoy being with you. I wouldn’t play with that.” 

“Then…” Roman bit his lip, ”Why now?” he asked, voice small, “I thought you couldn’t…”

“I’m not used to being wanted,” Janus admitted, and Roman looked up startled, “And when I was wanted it never meant something good, it still doesn’t, but...” he sighed, “Before….It was easy. I could walk away from everything and not have any reason to go back, but,” He blushed, “I can’t walk away now and I certainly can’t pretend everything I feel is platonic I just...I want to choose you. Again and again and again.” 

Roman didn’t say anything for a while. 

Roman’s face was one of quiet contemplation that slowly melted into a cat-like satisfaction as he leaned in close, fingers hooking into the top of Janus’s dress as he pulled him into a kiss. He kissed Janus like the world was going to end and Janus returned the favor, letting the burning wrap around him, not caring if they ever let go. 

And when Roman finally did, breathing heavy with smudged lipstick and ruddy cheeks, Janus kissed him again. And again. And again. And again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! im back this week with the last chunk of chapters (excluding the finale) so i hope you enjoy!


	25. Lemongrass & Sleep

The Stranger, contrary to popular belief, was a very busy man. A very busy man who had particular interests and had to avoid a lot of Council members in hopes of protecting his particular interests. 

The brats weren’t initially a part of his plan in the same way a lot of his plan wasn’t initially a part of his plan, but he found them useful enough despite their abundance of sob stories and unaddressed trauma.

He found Kai trapped in a building that never stopped burning, abandoned by his Nonna so she could steal one of the Council’s many expensive toys. 

He plucked Lauren from one of the many Sanders Manors. She wasn’t cursed, but she was heavily guarded and isolated from the rest of her family. She was a backup plan of some sorts just in case the Council couldn’t pry the Sanders notoriety from Roman, Remus, or Logan. 

So all in all, The Stranger didn’t have much difficulty handling them. In fact they had a strange attachment to him since they tended to think that at the end of the day The Stranger would shelter them. Which was true, as long as they remained useful. 

The problems came in with his older “students,” who were much more necessary and a lot harder to replace when damaged. He was able to control Deceit partly because of their deal, partly because they were practically made to take orders and adapt. But Roman was only compliant because The Stranger was the lesser of two evils.

However, now that Roman was properly medicated and reunited with his family, that little leverage was practically nonexistent now. The Stranger doubted Roman would sacrifice their freedom for some one-sided crush, especially if Deceit got bored with their attachment and threw themselves back into their cravings for power.

And Lauren had no real obligations towards the Stranger anymore so he doubts she would convince her brother to stay if Roman explicitly said he didn’t want to. In fact, she was so starved for any familial attention that The Stranger wouldn’t doubt that Roman only had to say the word and they’d both be gone. 

There weren’t many Sanders left to access, all of the useful ones were either dead or out of reach completely. And it isn’t as if he hasn’t made the attempt without a complete set, the only problem is that without a chain the shifter would only spiral; sometimes trying to kill everything in its path, sometimes going mad and being devoured in the flame. 

So sadly, The Stranger had to keep Roman. With how the Sanders are going, there probably won’t be a full-blooded Sanders for thousands of generations; that is if they don’t die out before then. 

This was The Stranger’s last chance to make something that lasts. To make something greater than all this bullshit, then all the humans, then everything. 

He was going to take everything and make it more. 

But first, he had to buy a house. 

\---

Compared to the Sanders Manor, it was a relatively simple house in the more obscure parts of Florida, not too far from the marshes. It was one story, with a wide porch and an overgrown lawn. On the porch, Roman could see discarded, ragged dolls, abandoned paper crafts, and discarded, overturned sippy cups. Inside the lights were on, it's dim, orange glow drawing him closer.

The screen door opened, a middle-aged woman with long locs stepping out with a child on her hip. She looked tired, half her face a deep brown, while the other half seemed to crack open--skin a deathly white. Its veins stark, her left eye entirely vacant. 

“...Mama?” Lauren croaked, brushing past Roman and stepping out of the shadows. 

Mrs. Sander's face brightened and within seconds Lauren had launched across the yard. She buried her face into Mrs. Sanders’ arms, a frenzy of half intelligible Spanish and barely held back tears as her Mama held her tight and pressed kisses into her hair. 

And at that moment, Roman’s heart broke all over again. Why couldn’t he have just… given it up sooner? Why couldn’t he had--

Janus squeezed his hand and Roman snapped out of his thoughts, expecting their inquisitive stare but instead they were just as fixated on the scene as Roman was with that same lost look that Roman had seen a million times before. At this point the other brats had join Lauren inside, the house soon coming alive, but Janus was still fixated.

Roman waited with him. He waited until they finally exhaled, reality seeping back into their eyes. 

“Darling?” Roman murmured. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Janus said, voice oddly disconnected. 

Roman frowned, “Do you want me to leave…?”

“Yes,” Janus said immediately, but he didn’t let go of Roman’s hand yet, “Y’know….” his face furrowed, “I didn’t think I’d missed her this much,” he said, not quite talking to Roman, “She disappeared and they found her in the woods torn to shreds and I didn’t feel… anything,” he swallowed, glassy-eyed, “She always disappeared and came back torn up, so I had always expected her to die that way… I only got mad when the church refused to let her be buried with everyone else.” 

Janus’s hand slipped from Roman’s, “I don’t think I ever stopped being mad, “ his body faded away inch by inch until Roman was alone all at once.

Roman stepped away, hesitant, watching the shifting shadows for any sign that Janus was still there, but found none. 

Still a soft, “Come back,” fell from his lips, before he managed to turn away. 

\---

Deceit, for once, didn’t know where he was going. 

Everything looked the same to him here, trees blurring together indistinct, hanging moss dripping from branches and from boats, and the worst was the incessant buzz that seemed to come from everywhere. 

At a certain point in his wandering, Deceit came to the understanding that he was being followed. It was something he’s felt before, so he knew for a fact it wasn’t paranoia. Sometimes it was some random men following his mom home from work, sometimes it was the odd cluster of snot-faced bullies. 

One time Deceit was followed was a week or so after his mom’s death, when Eden and Virgil wouldn’t stop pestering him to just have some fun. And like that The Stranger appeared, with his assortment of tricks and disgustingly blue eyes. 

But no one has followed him for this long and quite frankly he didn’t have the patience for it anymore, “Do you need something,” He snarled, cooly observing the darkness around him, “Because I sure the fuck don’t have it.”

All around him he felt the air crackle. The magic was combustive in the way it emerged from nothingness, it was a fire, but not. It was something far more acidic, the type of magic that dripped--no flooded you at once, leaving your senses inflamed. 

Logan’s Magic was steady, simple. A towering mountain that you’d never doubt would be there until it wasn’t. Roman’s magic was an endless fire, constantly in the throes of rebirth and death. 

This…

This was unnatural in every way, and Deceit found it disgusting. The magic crackled again as if amused, and it seemed to circle him, getting closer, and closer. 

Deceit’s nose curled, “You know what,” he said, turning on his heel, “Fuck this,” 

He’d deal with that another time.


	26. Hold My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops sorry! school started last week and i didnt have time to post. hope you enjoy!

Deceit entered with the sunrise, the bed creaking as they eased in beside Roman.

Roman sighed, turning and curling into their lap, “You smell funny,” he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

Deceit arm wrapped around Roman’s shoulders, careful to avoid his exposed wings, “Good morning to you too,” 

“Did you get much sleep?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Deceit sighed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

Roman opened his eyes, folding his arms to support his head, “Is there something I should be worried about?” he asked, coy. 

Deceit’s lips twitched, “Don’t be nosy,” he said, not missing how Roman’s eyes narrowed, “I’m fine, just get some rest,” he added on quickly. 

“I dun’wanna,” Roman pouted, all puppy dog eyes, but Deceit could hear their anxiety edging into the tone. 

“Stop that,” Deceit scolded, prodding their face, “I’m fine—” another poke, “Sleep.” 

Romans face twisted away from another poke, sitting up abruptly, “Okay so you’re fine,” he said, “You’re used to fine and obviously fine isn’t doing shit for you,” 

Deceit met their state head-on, jaw ticking, “I’m working on it,” 

“Are you?” Roman challenged, somehow managing to look smug with his disheveled clothes and adorable half-dazed look— 

“Yes, I am,” Deceit gritted swallowing that mess of emotions. He was half annoyed at Roman’s persistence but he was more annoyed with the fact that he knew it didn’t make him magically be able to hate Roman. Ugh. “Even if I wasn’t, that doesn’t mean you’d be able to fix me,” 

At that, something flickered in Roman’s eyes and for a brief, terrifying moment Deceit had to seriously contemplate the extent of Romans persuasion. Roman couldn’t really—

“I can’t,” Roman agreed as he tucked his legs, “I won’t.

“But…” Roman sighed, “Janus, that isn’t the first time you’ve been like… that. And I understand that you can’t just make yourself stop but, “ he paused, wringing his hands, “That doesn’t mean there aren’t ways to make it better. If you’re hurting I don’t want to add onto it just because I make I stupid mistake or can’t read you right. I’m trying to talk about it now because a lot of the times when you do shut down you can’t talk to me. - you can’t say ‘don’t do this you’re hurting me’ and it’s just… scary not knowing what to do.” 

“I…” Deceits chest clenched, “What if I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, face darkening, “Sometimes I want to be touched sometimes I… need to be alone. And other times… I feel like if you do stay near me you’ll only get hurt,” 

“Well it’s a start,” Roman said, “So what do you need right now?” 

“Need?” Deceit scoffed, “I don’t need anything,” 

Roman rolled his eyes, “Okay tough guy, “ he said, “What do you want,” 

Deceit opened his mouth then he froze, promptly closing his mouth, eyebrows knitted as he thought. After a few seconds he patted the space beside him, not looking at Roman, “I’m tired,” he said, cautiously, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Okay,” Roman eyed curiously, “Are you fine with cuddling or no?”

“Yes,” Deceit said, a bit too quick.

“Yes to what?” Roman teased.

“Don’t be a dick.” 

Roman smiled, crawling beside Deceit and slipping back under the covers. He wrapped his arms around Deceit’s waist, face nestling in the crook of their neck as Deceit relaxed. 

The bed wasn’t as luxurious as the one in at The Offerings, but it wasn’t as cramped as the one they had prior--it was just right. Everything was new, but Deceit felt it all clicking together just right, as if maybe he stumbled onto being something of substances after all. Something that was his to choose and share, as if he had something of worth and for once the world was finally letting him be. 

The sun rose steadily outside, it’s patches of light warming Deceits skin as he slowly fell asleep. 

\---

You don’t really comprehend being in the same house with four kids until you experience it. Sure, Deceit’s dealt with the brats, but they were all teenagers and he didn’t feel the same degree of anxiety when they were being dumbasses. Hell, he didn’t even feel comfortable saying the Sanders kids were being dumbasses because they were actual children. 

After Lauren, there were the triplets; Sofia, Vivian, and Marie. All adorable and strikingly resembling their mom with thicker, kinker hair and soft, dark eyes. They apparently had chaotic tendencies, with them invading Roman’s bed and dragging him out of bed a, seemingly unbothered by Deceit’s presence if not a little curious. Deceit told them apart by how many baby teeth they were missing and how clingy they were to Roman. 

Roman stood at the counter fixing some food, while Marie remained attached to his waist, “Aren’t you going to wake them up?” he asked, head gesturing back to the hallway towards the brats rooms. 

Deceit dumped more sugar into his coffee, “Mm, not today,” he said, idly watching as Vivian and Sofia arranged their dolls at the smaller table-- aka Sofia bossing around Vivian who looked increasingly agitated, “Apparently dickhead is taking us on a field trip later today, so I thought it’d be best to let them get some sleep,” 

“Who’s dickhead?” Marie frowned. 

Roman inhaled, giving Deceit a dry look, “He’s a bad man that you won’t ever have to meet,” he explained matter of fact, setting aside a plate a food, “Make sure you eat your vitamins,” 

Marie’s face scrunched up for a moment before she nodded, detaching herself and grabbing the plate. After the other two girls grabbed their plates, taking them to their table, Roman turned to Deceit with a raised eyebrow, “Really?”

Deceit lifted the cup to his lips, “Am I not allowed to curse?” he mused, leaning against the counter next to Roman.

“Try to keep it to a minimum,” Roman sighed, “Especially around Tami, she’s like a sponge,” he mumbled, picking at his own bowl of fruit.

“I thought she was still nonverbal?” 

“She is,” Roman popped a blueberry in his mouth, “But she learns quick. So if she does have her first words I’d never hear the end of it from Ma if it’s something vulgar,” 

Deceit snorted, “Your mouth is filthier than mine,” he said. 

“You like my filthy mouth,” Roman muttered. 

The two looked up at the sound of footsteps softly padding into the kitchen. Mrs. Sanders looked visibly disheveled, Tami holding her hand--eyes trained on the ground. She yawned, “Mornin,” she said to no one in particular, her eyes flicking between the two, something akin to exasperation settling on her face, “Roman, dear, I thought you outgrew sneaking boys into the house,”

“I didn’t, I just got better at it,” Roman shrugged, “There’s coffee still in the pot--” he offered, his gaze flickering down to Tami, “Do you want me to make her something?” 

Mrs. Sanders rubbed her eyes, before pulling out her glasses, “That be lovely, just make sure it isn’t sweet she hates it--,” she sighed, “Also I’m not your father, and you’re not the heir anymore so you don’t have to hide your boyfriend. But,” she pursed her lips, “If he stays here, you’re going to have to use protection.” 

Deceit choked on his coffee and Roman cleared his throat, face straight, but Deceit could spot the vines peeking from their sleeves, “There are seven kids in this house, hon,” Mrs. Sanders continued, gravely serious as she poured a cup, “I’m not taking care of anymore,”

“Yes ma’am,” Roman said. It was only when Mrs. Sanders left the kitchen for the porch did he side-eye Deceit, “Stop that,” 

“Stop what?” Deceit set his cup down in the sink, watching them curiously.

“You’re staring,” Roman said, walking to the pantry and pulling out the lone box of oatmeal, “Stop.”

At that, Deceit grinned, moving himself in Roman’s way, “I thought you liked having my attention,” he mused. 

“I do,” Roman said, easily sliding past them, “Which is why you need to stop,”

“Uh-huh,” Deceit said, following close, “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,”

“Fuck off--I’m not embarrassed,” Roman huffed, setting aside the box. 

“Mhm,” Deceit said, winding his arms around Roman’s waist, pulling them close just as they turned around, “Kiss me?”

Roman’s glare faltered before slipping off altogether. He couldn’t mask his laugh, ducking his head to close the distance. 

“You do realize we still have to talk about that?” Deceit murmured against their lips, “I know we’re not in any rush, but seeing as we don’t exactly have the same biology...”

Roman’s face twisted, hands resting on Deceit’s chest, “I’m fine with talking about sex it’s just… I don’t like talking about my body.” 

“I know. I don’t either.” Deceit admitted. 

“I…” Roman paused at that before nodding, “Later,” was all he promised. 

\---

Upon seeing Kai, Lauren, and Elliot successfully break into some magical zoo in less than an hour, Deceit began to consider that maybe, just maybe, he was surrounded by criminals. 

All the faceless guards were taken care of, some in soundless pain, others passed out completely, so they slipped inside without issue. Once everything was secured, the Stranger strode inside leading the way with no further comment.

The moon hung in the sky. It was almost full. 

All around them silver bars glinted, the cages themselves shadowed with the peering violet eyes hidden among the foliage. 

Something about this place just wasn’t right, but the brats seemed to be having fun

Lauren was talking about some rare plant she spotted and Kai seemed placated by the rippling furs of creatures just out of reach. Of course, Elliot seemed uncomfortable, but they generally were whenever they went out with the Stranger.

The Stranger stopped abruptly, head craning to address the brats, “Y’all scram,” he shooed them, “This lesson is for Deceit,” he said with a smile. 

That is when Deceit knew he was fucked.. But to the rest of them, it was normal and they all took the orders without comment or question, leaving Deceit with the Stranger once again. 

Once they were out of sight, The Stranger’s smile slid off. He resumed his path forward, knowing that Deceit would follow. 

The further Deceit walked the more the pit in his stomachs grew. Something was just wrong. He knew it and his mind scrambled trying to figure out if he did something wrong—which wasn’t helpful since he always did something wrong, but— 

The Stranger stopped in front of a dark, cavern-like entrance. It was further away from all the cages, but it still held a commercial presence with cheery signs in odd languages and bright arrows pointing inside. 

The Stranger propped himself against one of these signs, popping a lollipop on his mouth, “It’ll be a full moon soon,” he said to no one in particular, “You know…” he crunched the lollipop hard, spitting out the stick, “You’ve lasted longer then I expected.” 

Deceit stared blandly and The Stranger sighed, “Still, you aren’t good enough,” 

Only then did Deceits eyes narrowed, “I’ve been doing everything you asked,” 

“Yes-Yes I know, you’re a good little dog aren’t you huh?”The Stranger said, “Still,” 

“Still?” Deceit gritted. He could feel his anger sharp through the haze of worry.

“You’re getting a bit too—“The Stranger clicked his tongue, “Distracted—now don’t look like tha--t I won’t touch your little boy toy, that would be counterproductive to our cause,” 

“So what do you want me to do?” Deceit managed, forcing his eyes to unslit, and ignoring the scales searing up his sides. 

“Ah,” The Stranger laughed, “Now you’re asking the right questions and as a reward for not being entirely useless—” He flicked his sunglasses down and Deceit stiffened, “I’ll ask you a different question; what is our cause?”

“None of my business,” Deceit shrugged, “I am simply a tool who will benefit.” 

“Very good,very simple right?” The Stranger hummed, “It’s easy for people to get scared of the bigger picture, but aren’t you just a little bit curious?” 

“No,” Deceit lied. 

“Good,”The Stranger flipped his glasses back up, covering his relentless gaze, “You’ll learn soon enough. Until then you need to push yourself further and I won’t tolerate any failure,” he gestured towards the cavern, “But just in case, here’s a little reminder about what you’ll be worth to the world if you do decide to fuck up,” 

The Stranger didn’t follow him into the cavern, but Deceit could feel their mocking, cold gaze the entire time. Inside were fluorescent-lit exhibits, brightly colored informational posters and those arrows and—and—it was all terribly wrong.

Because behind each glass panel, were skeletons of all sizes; some with painted on whiskers others, with ancient feathers sticking from their arms, or scales carved deep into bone. 

An exhibit of dead shifters, propped and polished for the public’s consumption.

As if they were nothing but monsters.


	27. It's A Long Way Down to the Bottom of the River

Ms. Drak’on didn’t bother to look up once Logan had entered her office, her massive tail curled in her lap as she tapped away at her computer.

She was busy, always busy and today she was dealing with the mass freeing of the Sanders and all associated parties. For a curse that exhaustive it wasn’t just a matter of freeing them, but it was a matter of arranging new housing, placing younger children under adoptive care, and arranging for funeral services and preservation efforts for any humans or elders caught in the mix. 

Overall the whole ordeal was incredibly profitable despite being horrendously irritating. And while being around so many humans was disturbing, it was ultimately for the best. The Council was this world's new future whether the magic-folk liked it or not and Annaliese would be damned if she let her folk be thrown to the wayside like so many others.

Her initial plan was to be a part of the Sanders, seeing as they were a powerhouse among the folk and everyone knew the Council had an eye on them. It took decades just for her to convince her family to arrange the marriage between her and the Sanders, and many years later for them to forgive her for that failure of an investment. Still, she found away, and when that way fell apart she’d find another and another. 

Logan cleared his throat, once then twice, and Annaliese looked up, “Yes?” she said, her long claws tapping impatiently, “Is this related to your studies or the coronation?”

“Uh,” Logan frowned, “No ma’am.”

Annaliese scowled, “Then what is it?”

“I was talking with Patton and Virgil--” Annaliese made a face. She thought he would’ve gotten over them once they had left for the colonies. Logan continued, “And they mentioned that there was a series of break-ins at The Colonies.”

“And?” 

“And… I thought it would a good idea for us to investigate,” He reasoned, “Large amounts of their discarded magical waste had been taken before it was properly deactivated and the only person known to experiment with that is The Stranger so I though-”

“Logan,” She cut him off with a sharp smile, “I admire your dedication,”

Logan blinked startled, “Uh, thank you ma’am,”

“You’re welcome,” Ms. Drak’on’s smile stayed unnervingly in place, “So when I say leave it alone, I’m not trying to discourage you--In fact, I say this as a way to encourage you to keep focus,”

“But nearly a thousand ounces of magical residue went missing that’s enough to--”

“Blow up a small nation, yes, yes I’m aware,” She finished, “Someone else will handle it. I’ll arrange for it personally in fact,” she promised, “But you are going to be the heir of the most powerful folk-family. You need to stop worrying about your friends, stop worrying about some no-name shifter and his joke of a mentor, and start thinking about your own future,” Logan still looked unpleased, “Do you really care about this magical residue or do you just want a rematch.”

“I…” Logan swallowed, “There’s going to be backlash…” 

“And? They can have their opinions, it won’t change paperwork, ” Annaliese snapped, “You let them and their little prank under your skin once, but I won’t let it happen again,” she pointed at a singular talon at Logan, “You want to be heir, correct?”

Logan’s face hardened, “Yes.”

“In a couple of months you will be,” She said, “So leave it be, unless you’d rather me pick another heir? You have plenty of cousins who would gladly step up,” Logan flinched and at that, she hummed, “So you’ll leave it be?”

“I’ll…” Logan sighed, “I’ll leave it be,” 

\---

“It looks pretty, Sof,” Roman said, hands curling around the torn up leaves of the flowers she picked. 

Sofia batted his hands away from her arrangement on the table, “No it isn’t, it’s ugly and stupid,” she huffed as she picked at the flowers, “Marisol would’ve made them pretty,” 

“Marisol isn’t here,” Viviane said, readjusting her flower crown with a careless delight, “Momma said she’s still sleeping,” 

“I know that,” Sofia grumbled, though she started messing with her flowers more .

“Sofia?”

Her face scrunched and she ignored Roman. 

Roman sighed, knowing that at any second she’d get frustrated and either cry or scream. Probably both. He bit his lip, “Sofia, can you do me a big favor?”

At that she looked up, still scowling and eyes watery, “What?” 

“Can you help Ma in the garden?” Roman suggested, pointing out the screen door, “Tami can’t be alone in the house, but Ma’s going to need a lot of help,” 

Before Sofia could answer Viviane butted in, “Oh Sofia can’t help, she’d get dirty,”

Sofia’s eyes snapped up full of some equivalent to fury, “Yes I can!” 

“No, you can’t!” Viviane stuck her nose up, pointing to herself, “But I can,”

It didn’t take long for that disaster of an argument to spill outside, startling Ma and a dozing Marie. Once they were out of sight, Roman took a cursory glance at the flowers on the table, before oh so innocently dragging a hand over the stems.

It was a bit harder since the flower's roots had long since been ripped off, but that just meant he had to give them a new root system. It didn’t take long after that for dingy petals to brighten into delicate pinks and yellows and for the torn, leaves to wilt and be replaced with stronger, healthier greens. 

While he was finishing up, Lauren walked in, looking sweaty--hair tied in a high ponytail as she guzzled down water. She raised an eyebrow, “You’re spoiling them,” she accused.

“I can get you flowers too if you’re jealous,” Roman mocked.

Laruen’s eyes narrowed, “I can pick my own,” she scoffed, though her gaze still lingered on the petals, “Maybe you should take some out for your boy~friend, he’s been mean all day,”

“I mean…” Roman shrugged, “I’d be pissy too if I had to babysit y’all instead of, y’know, kissing me.” 

Lauren sighed, turning on her heel, “Leaving now,” 

“Love ya too,” Roman said dusting off his hands. He breezed through the living room passing the slumped, heaving forms of Kai and Elliot. He poked his head out of the front door, easily finding Janus in the midst of doing cool-down stretches. 

Roman closed the door behind them, a smile creeping on his face, “Darling?” Janus paused mid-stretch but didn’t look up, even as Roman crouched behind them, hugging them from behind. Roman pursed his lips, resting his head on their shoulder, “Janus, you’re ignoring me,” he whined. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, yes you are,” Roman said,” Any reason why?” 

Janus stiffened, not immediately responding so Roman waited. After a while he finished his stretch, leaning into Roman, “I’m... tired. Just gotta get used to the new training regiment that’s all,” 

Roman frowned at that, “Anything I can do?” 

“I stink, so a bath would be nice,” Janus sighed. 

Roman hummed in agreement, “Can I join?” 

“Now,” Janus said, pushing Roman’s face away, 

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Roman laughed, giving Janus a little squeeze before standing up, “I’ll run it in a few minutes, try not to stay out here for too long,” He squinted at the setting sun, “It's getting late,” 

Janus sighed, “I won’t be long,”

—--

His eyes were burning long after The Stranger gave him another vial. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t inviting, but it clawed into him deep, stoking an internal itch Deceit never knew he had. On one hand, he could feel himself getting stronger, on the other hand he knew that he had to stay vigilant, lest he lose control. 

It wouldn’t be like the first time. 

Eden and him had taken the vials at the same time, but it hit Eden much harder. He was human, after all. One moment they were laughing. The next moment, well… Janus couldn’t tell you for sure what happened. But he knew something changed when the light jabs became shoves, and the words spilling were no longer loving. 

Janus had always admired Eden, so of course, it hurt, but if it had just been about Janus well… maybe they would’ve all went to church that day. But Virgil was Janus’s responsibility and Eden… was replaceable. Eden was loved, he was cherished by his family, but at the end of the day he was just as disposable as Janus.

The only difference was that they at least searched for Eden, even if they didn’t really find him. They mourned for Virgil, they were furious at Eden, but never said a word about Janus. 

Janus, Eden, Deceit, Janus. It was a mantra he cycled through constantly, but it was especially dizzying when he was alone with himself. One face wasn’t his own, but it was better than nothing. One embraced his nothingness with an obnoxious flair. And one… was nothing, but Roman said it like it meant something. And the more they said it, the more Janus found himself unwilling to hate it completely. 

Janus dunked his head in the bath, not rising again until the stink of memories were drowned by his desperate need for air. Then he scrubbed himself as raw as his lungs were, ignoring how his body ached and not lingering on his scales or the irritated and inflamed scars, but instead focussing on his need to be clean. 

Once he was done with that, he untied his hair. It had grown back long, but since Deceit tended to just shift to fix his hair it had gotten tangled and matted. After the temptation to rip his hair out of his skull intensified, he dragged himself out of the tub. Throwing on pants, he trudged back into the room--immediately rummaging through the dresser drawers. 

Roman, who was hanging off the bed upside down, sat up, “Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“Scissors,” Janus grumbled, “Or a knife, anything sharp--” He frowned, finding nothing but books and clothes. 

“Why would you…” Roman trailed off, “Weren’t you going to try to actually take care of your hair?”

“I did try-- it was taking too long,” Janus said, looking up when Roman sighed, “What?”

“Come here, you big baby,” Roman said, leaving no room for complaint as he pulled out a wider-tooth comb from the side-drawer. Janus complied, flopping on his stomach and burying his head in Roman’s lap.

Roman hummed, fingers kneading their scalp gently, causing Janus to tense, before relaxing, “Long day?”

Janus groaned, voice muffled, “I hate everything,” 

Roman had started sectioning Janus’s hair, “I don’t think you hate everything,” 

“I hate most things,” 

“Eh,”

“...I don’t hate you?”

Roman didn’t say anything to that, starting to pull the comb through Janus’s tangled ends and methodically working his way up. Janus lost himself in the sensation, not quite feeling the pit in his stomach go away, but instead feeling like he had more space to breathe.

At some point Janus had drifted off, only stirring when Roman stopped combing, slowly just rubbing circles in Janus’s scalp. Janus propped his head up on Roman’s lap, vaguely registering that Roman had stole another one of his shirts, “What time is it?”

“Ready to leave me so soon?”

“Mmm…” Janus wrapped an arm around their waist, playing with ends of the shirt, “Not quite,” 

“Go--ood,” Roman stuttered, eyes closing as Janus pressed feather-light kisses along their thigh, hand drifting up their shirt, “Aren’t you still tired?”

“A little…” Janus mumbled with a frown, “But with this new schedule I won’t be able to see you as often,” Roman’s face fell, “But... I’m here now,” 

“I guess you are…but--” Roman inhaled sharply as Janus’s fangs flashed, “Janus…” Roman squirmed as they sucked at the sensitive skin there. 

“Huh, I thought you were fucking with me, but, “ Janus smiled, deliberately twirling a vine creeping over Roman’s hip, “You really do like them?”

“Shut up,” Roman whined into his hands, “Of course I like them,” 

Janus paused at that, sitting up, “So if I grew a tail and started craving human flesh?”

Roman snorted, “Babe, I had a tail when I was younger,” Janus shot him a curious look, “It fell off--” he explain shortly, “But the point is I’m not even human, you don’t scare me,” he pushed aside his braids, leaning back against the headboard, “In fact, if you hadn’t noticed I find you very attractive,” 

“You find Eden very attractive,”

“Yes, I am a fan,” Roman admitted rolling his eyes, “But I guarantee that you can pick any face you want- even your own, and I’d still be just as eager. And… you wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“We’re partners--” Roman squeaked, cupping Janus’s face, his sappy smile beaming into the kiss. 

“Is it later yet?” Janus murmured, feeling how Roman’s skin was getting hotter and hotter, “Cause I really would like to have that talk now--”

There was a knock and they both froze.

Roman was the first to speak, “It's locked--they’ll go away soon,”

Janus frowned at that, “Are you sure it’s the triplets?”

Roman paused for entirely too long with a look entirely too pissy and Janus rolled off the bed despite their protests. Janus wasn’t surprised to see The Stranger when he opened the door, but The Stranger seemed pretty surprised.

The Stranger’s mouth opened, then closed, “Busy?”

Janus scowled, “I’ll be out in a minute,” and he shut the door promptly. He winced upon seeing just how pleased Roman was, “Sorry...”

“Don’t apologize… just,” Roman’s gaze flickered to the door, “Be safe.” 

\---

Deceit had the decency to feel somewhat guilty when The Stranger handed him another vial. It’s just that it was hard to pinpoint any feelings after they handed him another, and another, and another. It was hard to even remember his name and it wasn’t like The Stranger was inclined to remind him. 

Blood soaked and vaguely human-shaped, Deceit stumbled up as the snake-like creature slithered towards him again, fangs bared.

He didn’t have to turn around to see The Stranger’s displeased expression. This what...the 45th? 67th? time that Deceit was attempting this shift, whilst trying to avoid the creature -- the pitch blackness of the sky had long since softened into mocking pinks and swirling purples. 

The snake lunged and for a dizzying second, Deceit didn’t even feel as their fangs sank into his skin again, tearing at the flesh. He dropped to his knees, fruitlessly clawing at the beast, feeling his shift sharpen and humanity slick away piece by piece. 

The Stranger tossed his drink, the cup disappearing, “Alright, enough,” and like that the creature was gone.

Deceit shuddered, hands still grasping as if he could still feel the creature’s grip around his throat, “Was it...was it good enough?”

The Stranger inclined his head, lowering his glasses to observe the glistening, gold scales dripping from Deceit’s lower half, still radiating the same manic energy the snake had, “No, but it's a start,” he said, pushing his glasses up, “You’re too attached,”

Deceit swallowed, “Attached? Attached to what?”

“To your identity,” The Stranger drawled, “Forget it. It's useless anyway,” his spiked boots kicked up the dirt. 

“Identity?” Deceit’s laugh was a choked, guttural thing that caused the pain in his shoulder to flare up,” I don’t have an identity, I’m nothing, remember?”

The Stranger didn’t say anything, an uncomfortable silence stretching, “Same time tomorrow,” he finally said, turning on his heel, “Don’t be late this time,”

When Deceit returned to the house, Lauren took one good look at him before bullying him into getting cleaned up and getting stitches. Deceit let her babble about some T.V show wash over him before he dragged himself to bed. 

The next night, it was some underground creature that only appeared when provoked and apparently when you provoked one, the entire nest appeared. It had taken so long to even get a glimpse of them and even longer to shake them all off so by the time he got back to the house it was already mid-day. After Kai stopped yelling at him for missing the sparring sessions they shoved a plate of food in his direction and chucked a water bottle at his head. 

On the days that he was nonverbal, they switched to signing without further questioning after Elliot’s telepathy proved to be too overwhelming after a night trapped in a cave with a sound-based creature. 

And every day, whenever he could--- he calmed down an upset Roman, letting them check over each new scar and relentlessly curse The Stranger’s name in a surprising amount of languages until they were content that he was in one piece.

Only then did he tell Janus about his day, telling him about the fort the triplets were building outside, about the new book he’s reading, or how he was going to start taking care of Tami and them more often since his mom had finally gotten the paperwork she needed to start working again. 

It was odd floating between those moments of normalcy and chaos, but it was odder when they overlapped. Tonight it was less of a creature and more of a gelatin mass that seeped acid.

Deceit wasn’t allowed to attack it back, not unless he replicated it perfectly, but as he was letting that acid bastard swallow him all he could think about was yesterday night. 

Roman had just finished Tami’s very specific bedtime routine when he had walked into the room doe eyed and really quiet. After a few attempts at prodding, they quietly admitted that they might want kids when he got older. Which wasn’t surprising, but what did throw Deceit off guard was the fact that they asked for his opinion on the matter. As if Deceit had a future beyond this--and if he did how much of it would be dedicated to being The Stranger’s experiment?

He hadn’t even noticed that the creature was gone until The Stranger snapped in front of his face, annoyed. Deceit staggered up, “Sorry--are we done?”

“Sure, this isn’t working anyway,” The Stranger said cooly and Deceit tensed, “You’re still distracted, you’re still attached,”

“I…” Deceit frowned, “I don’t understand,”

“Of course you don’t,” The Stranger scoffed, “You’re lucky you’re not a complete waste of time or I wouldn’t even bother trying at this point,” he the lollipop cracked in his mouth, “Don’t bother coming back tomorrow,”

Both relief and terror pooled into Deceit’s gut, “What?”

“Don’t get so worked up--” The Stranger scolded, “You get the next three days off and , after that we’re going on a little trip. If it goes as planned, we’ll have everything we ever wanted,”

“And...if it doesn’t go as planned?”

“Well, I'll take a break somewhere blisteringly hot and then try again in the next hundred years,” The Stranger shrugged. 

Deceit didn’t have to ask to figure out what would happen to him.


	28. The Last Supper (I)

Janus spent his break relearning. 

He relearned what it felt like to rest. 

He ignored the sun’s rise, feeling his body’s relief. He relearned how it felt for his muscles to be simply sore without the adrenaline of training clouding his senses. He relished in the sluggishness of the early morning, Roman curled at his side, only really waking up when hearing their rough, sleep heavy voice.

He spent his break patient. He listened to the brats argue until Mrs. Sanders kicked them outside so she could do her accounting in peace. He listened to the babble of Roman’s sisters as they bossed and questioned him with seemingly no qualms about what might or might not be seen as rude. 

They apparently didn’t like calling him Deceit and had taken a liking to refer to him as Mr. Snake, which also spurred a number of inside jokes that he didn’t understand--including calling him slimy. Janus had to stop himself more than once from just telling them his actual name just to stop that nonsense. 

He spent his break...well catching up with Roman.

Janus hadn’t realized how often they would have to stop or avoid talking about certain things because something would always come up. Janus generally had to train the brats while Roman had to watch his sisters and help out around the house. Even when they had free time, The Stranger's traning had gotten more exhausting, leaving Janus mentally and physically checked out most of the time. Roman, despite his medication helping with his physical ability to withstand his magic, still had nausea, fatigue, and anxiety attacks-- sometimes getting to the point where they couldn't take care of his sisters much less spend time with Janus. 

But for once… all of that wasn’t stopping them, as if for a brief moment the universe let them breathe. 

So Janus was patient when Roman was describing his boundaries, as Roman described the myriad of peculiar or dangerous things that had happened when he decided to get intimate before. And in turn, Janus did the same. 

And on his last day of his break, he spent his time relearning Roman’s body. 

\---

Janus knew he would have to leave soon, yet he found himself lingering. 

Roman curled into him, their transparent wings twitching every so often--still overly sensitive from being touched. The blankets cradling their smooth expanse of skin, just barely hiding the trail of pink flowers dotting around their legs and disappearing between their thighs. 

Janus knew he had to leave, but before he did he wanted to do literally anything else. So he sat up slowly scooping up and slipping on his discarded clothes, feeling the moon’s glare on his neck and Roman’s faint touches on his skin. He had to leave. 

He stood, forcing himself not to look back, but the bed creaked causing Roman to stir.

Hearing their intelligible voice, Janus caved. 

Roman had kicked off the blankets, face scrunched up as he pawed at the empty space beside them. Janus sighed, pulling the covers back onto him, and before he could think he found himself pressing a kiss to their forehead. 

Pulling away, his breath caught, “You’re awake,”

Roman opened his eyes, a small frown on their face, “You were leaving,”

“I have to get back to training,” Janus explained, soft. And even though he knew that it was the truth, it felt as heavy as a lie, “I’ll be back in about a week,”

Somehow Roman’s frown got deeper, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he said sitting up, the blanket pooling around his waist. 

“If I did I wouldn’t have been able to leave,” Janus admitted. 

“Then don’t.” 

“I,” Janus’s mind blanked. That sounded too easy when Roman said it, “I can’t do that,” he said, “I have to Roman. I made a deal. Without The Stranger I’d probably be in jail somewhere rotting away or dead,” 

Roman tilted his head at the new information, “And how did you end up there?”

“Alle-” Janus froze. Instead of the village people’s stare as he stumbled through town half dazed and still covered in blood. Instead of Eden’s mangled and beastly body dissapearing into the woods--Instead of Virgil being swept way in the river, all he could think of was--

Blue eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Janus gritted, suddenly angry, “I have to leave,”

Roman hugged his arms, “You….You don’t have to do anything,” he said, “I get that you have a deal but...this is too much. Every time you leave with him you come back worse. I…”

“That’s easy for you to say, “Janus inhaled, “Roman even after your life went to shit, you still managed to get everyone you cared for back. You still had people who cared. I don’t have that, and I won’t as long as I’m like this. If I have to suffer a bit to get it then…” 

Roman’s face looked shattered, “...I care about you,” he sniffed, wiping his face. 

“...I know,” Janus swallowed, “It’s just, “I’m not en--”

“Don’t,” Roman’s teary eyes narrowed, fist balling at his sides, “If you weren’t enough I sure as fuck would not have gotten into a relationship with you. And even if you were that doesn’t mean you’re less deserving of love,” 

“I’m not looking for…” Janus blinked hard, “ I’m not looking for love. I’m becoming more,” he said, voice not quite his own. 

“Please…. don’t leave.”

Somehow he found his body moving towards the door, the doorknob burning underneath his hand, “I’ll be back in a week,” he murmured bile rising in his throat as he left, Roman’s pleas distant in his ear. 

Everything was distant. 

It was only when he was standing outside of the door did a foggy thought drift into his head that he didn’t want to leave.

Janus didn’t want to do this. He wanted to turn back around and ignore every promise, every deal he’s ever made. He didn’t want to keep becoming he just wanted to be. Be alive, be loved, even if that life felt like shit sometimes, he was so desperate to make it better because for once that life was his. 

It was only when his world went black did he realize that he didn’t have a choice anymore. 

\---

It had been about a week and you could say that Roman was still upset. 

He didn’t mention Janus’s absence and continued on with his new life. He played and cared for his younger sisters and let the brats do whatever they want. He laughed when he was supposed to laugh and avoided Lauren’s careful prodding with the ease expected from a practiced liar. You wouldn’t even have noticed the faint trail of ashes that tended to follow him or how he spent a bit too long in the shower. 

So you could say he was still upset, but ultimately he was fine. He was functional and sometimes functional was enough. This was…

Roman shut the door, leaning against it with his eyes shut tight as he inhaled sharply. He swallowed thick, feeling that all familiar panic seize him with every breath. It wasn’t that he couldn’t focus on calming down, but there was so much to focus on. The way raindroplets sliding down the bedroom window, how tree branches rattled outside, the constant fucking whirring of technology everywhere, and heartbeats--so many heartbeats but none of them Janu--

Roman opened his eyes startled, “Dot?” he rasped, staring into the darkness head of him, “When did you get ou-- how?”

Dot sat on the bed, legs crossed--only the faint reflecting of her unblinking eyes visible. Otherwise, her glimmering skin seemed to lay hushed in the shadows. “Dear, have you been taking your medication?”

Roman bit his lip, “Yes, but that doesn’t--”

“All of it?” 

“U-Yes?”

Dot made an odd sound comparable to an exhale, but it felt like reluctance, “It would seem that Sanders should be stable enough,” she echoed to herself. Her wings drooped uncharacteristically low as she stood up, “I guess I’m not killing that man after all,” 

Roman became distinctly aware of another presence in the room, one without heartbeat or shape, “What’s going on?” he demanded fumbling with the door behind him, flinching when instead of the door handle he felt the hands of The Guard wrap around his arm, feeling both tight yet nonexistent as they restrained him.

Roman struggled, air turning into ice as The Guard lifted him up, “Let me go,” he snarled, feeling the house shake as he forced the distant storm to wrap around the house. 

The Guard’s laugh was booming, not terribly phased, “Oh he is an Heir,” he said, somehow holding Roman up higher, “He’s so cute, are you sure we can’t keep him?”

Dot shook her head, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders tighter as she flipped out a phone, “Larry, he’s not a toy,” Larry made a whimpering sound and Dot made a chirping one in return, “I did try, but He was rather adamant about keeping the pair together,” she frowned as the windows burst open. A blackened branch crashing inside with a deathly ease, “I wouldn’t advise that dear,” Dot said, sidestepping it's initial strike, “He did give us a beta version of the curse to use if you became difficult,”

“Like I give a damn,” Roman choked, only increasing his struggling, “I’ve gotten out of it before,”

Dot hummed, phone still at her ear, “But your father didn’t,” she commented, “Nor did your brother,” at that Roman spat at her, “And they were very powerful men, though not terribly creative like you are. Power can only get you so far after all,” 

“Is there a point to this?” Roman scoffed. 

“Still so impatient,” Dot tutted, approaching Roman with the casualty you usually do not expect from someone inches away from being crushed to death, “But the point is if some very powerful Sanders can’t physically handle the curse, what do you think would happen to humans? Especially with something as volatile as a beta version of the curse?” 

And like that, the tree was gone,.

Roman’s panic had only surged, “You wouldn’t,” 

“I don’t want to, but I’d have to,” Dot corrected, softly patting Roman’s face, “Please don’t make this any more difficult, darling. I’d love to see you in one piece after this,” 

Roman jerked his face away, blinking back his tears, “Fuck off,”

Aleseners didn’t emote like humans did, but for a brief moment Dot looked pained. 

And in the next moment the world went white. 

\---

A nameless shifter wakes up, hot metal pressed tight around their wrists and mouth bound with an unwashed rag. Their skin was slick, an uncomfortable heat lingering around their form. Their eyes throbbed with a clear, burning ooze still dripping from them.

A breeze blew through the air even though there wasn’t a window in sight.

They looked up, seeing the same Stranger from before. 

It was time to try again.


	29. The Last Supper (II)

Everything was too loud and once again Roman felt like it was completely beyond his control. The forest’s weight was an oppressive entity, seemingly outside of normal nature’s reach. Everything either felt as if it was moving too fast for conscious comprehension or that it didn’t move at all. 

He didn’t need to ask to know that this forest was older than time itself. And while plausibly Roman knew that nothing was too beyond a Sanders’ control, something deep within him said that he shouldn’t even try it here. 

Even before when the tree-like beast attacked, he knew he had done something unspeakable when he ordered it to unmake itself. At the time he was too confused and panicked to care about the consequences but now...He's still confused, and still had that constant growing panic that made his hyperawareness a curse in itself, but at least he now had a goal. 

Several in fact. 

Most of which involved him burning The Stranger and The Council to the ground and getting his family away from all of this bullshit. But the key point of that was he had to get to Janus--he had to find Janus. 

Larry carried him through the forest rambling about nothing in particular to no one in particular and Roman ignored Dot’s heavy stare. He tried to somewhat memorize where they were taking him, but the forest didn’t make any sense. It was made long before sense was even a concept, but eventually Roman caught on to how it worked. 

Even if there was no distinct landmarks, there was an undoubtable heaviness that increased the closer they got to wherever they were going. Roman could feel the magic laying dormant become more and more unbearable, he could feel even his own magic being dwarfed as he realized just how big this “forest” was. 

The long branches of the trees seemed to cluster and tangle together locking away the sky until even the faint twinkling of stars seemed to meld into the darkness. And yet they continued forward, seemingly unphased or alarmed by the complete darkness. 

Only it wasn’t dark for long. Slowly, but surely, dots of glowing red started to line their path. The unblinking eyes swooping above their heads just out of reach or scuttling just out of view into the hearth.

At one point, Roman felt the pressure increase and realized they were going underground, deep underground--all the while the glow of the Misrae’s eyes grew steadily around him. All attentive and completely soundless aside from the beating of wings. It got to the point where the glow was enough to illuminate the caverns walls and the deep etchings and carvings that swirled across stone in a deeply familiar yet foreign language.

At a certain point a thought came to him that maybe this wasn’t a weird forest or a cavern. Another thought followed with such clarity that Roman flinched at the intrusion. 

It wasn’t a forest or a cavern. 

It was a tomb. 

\---

Roman tuned out most of The Stranger’s speech.

It was some long, drawn out thing about his many woes and how the Universe continuously stripped away everything he cared about and how he needed to fix it. At first Roman didn’t understand what “it’ was exactly because while the Council sucked ass, it didn’t seemed like The Stranger was only fixated on that. Some of his issues had to do with the decaying world while others dealt with the fuckery that was human society and how magic folk were being systematically destroyed. 

So Roman assumes that fixing it, meant well fixing everything. It meant reconstructing how existence worked until it was all this perfectly oiled machine. And The Stranger planned to do it by bringing back the goddess and some-fucking how Roman was suppose to wake her up.

At that point in the speech, Roman was less bored and more tired because it was absolute bullshit. 

“That,” Roman picked at his nails, “Is absolute bullshit,” he said, relishing in how he can audibly hear the bastard's blood spike.

Dot’s wings stretched to curl around The Stranger, but they jerked away, scowl firmly in place, “Of course you wouldn’t understand,”

“Oh I understand,” Roman sighed, leaning back against the makeshift bed, “You’re some old, sad, crusty man who likes taking his shit out on my boyfriend because no one likes you,” 

The Stranger had an interesting vein popping in his forehead now, his blue eyes wild under the faint haze of the Misrae’s careful gaze, “I detail a plan constructed over centuries and you trivialize it to loneliness? This is not about me, this isn’t about you, this is about fixing this world and--”

“Are you done?” Roman groaned, hands tapping impatient, “Because I don’t fucking care. You’re holding my loved ones hostage and you want me to revive the fucking goddess so I’m going along with this shitty plan--what else do you want?” 

“I want--” The Stranger snapped his mouth shut, a strange flush settling over his face. He cleared his throat, turning to Dot stiffly, “Get him ready,” he gritted, turning on his heel and disappearing to the shadows of the tomb. 

Dot exhaled, turning to Roman, “I know you’re upset, but that doesn’t mean you have to upset him,”

“Upset him?” Roman scoffed, “He’s older than dirt he can deal with it,” 

“He really can’t,” Dot said. She maneuvered about the room with an uncomfortable ease and grace, sidestepping the oddly place crates and horrifically sized spider webs.

Roman attempted not to flinch as she hefted up a large, wrapped, thing, that, if the smell was anything to go by, was most likely dead. 

“What are you doing with that,” Roman said with a grimace, curling himself further against the wall. 

Dot hummed, the air stirring with the noise, “Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

“I…” Dot dropped the dead thing on the crate next to the makeshift bed, “That’s ...unfortunate,” she finally said, wings curling about her waist, “It isn’t personal, I’m just returning a favor,”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Roman said, still eyeing the thing with caution.

“Roman don’t be--”

“Don’t be what?” The air became ice, Roman’s eyes trained on anything but Dot, “Because I know my reaction is reasonable and I don’t appreciate you trying to convince me otherwise-- as if you being nice makes this situation any better,”

“It could be better,” Dot reasoned, slowly unwrapping the thing, “He has no ill will of you as far as I know and if everything goes right, you’ll be safe,” 

“It doesn’t matter it’s still fucked up,” Roman felt the makeshift bed crack and he could hear the tomb stirring and it made him al the more uneasy, “And the thing is I know fucked up--Annaliese wouldn't even call me by my name for years and yet somehow you’re even worst,” 

At that, Dot had stiffened, her wings dropping at once, “Roman--” she reached out.

“Don’t,” Roman gritted, the command rushing out all at once. Dot’s hand had frozen mid-air, her wide-doe eyes blown wide, body frozen, “I trusted you,” Roman finally said, voice small.

All at once Dot’s body relaxed, as if the taunt string had finally been cut loose. 

She didn’t try to touch Roman again.

\--- 

Waking the dead was sort of like reading. 

It was picking apart at the layers of a life that wasn’t his and trying to decipher a meaning--trying to reason with the bits and pieces the life had left behind. The coaxing was the easy part, the magic of the dead still lingered in some way. Sometimes returning back to nature, sometimes laying dormant, other times well…

Roman let the smile on his face linger at the thought, memories of Remus’s laugh a comforting relief that was only interrupted by the brief twitching of the creature’s corpse in front of him. He frowned as he watched the brief flickering of life slip away all at once. 

He had done it before successfully, sometimes accidental sometimes on purpose. But even the successes weren’t...right. Even though he had never seen the creature in life, Roman felt the wrongness wash over him as they twitched and writhed in their own juices, the stink of their magic flooding the room before quieting--taking their life with it. 

“So who’s going to tell the ass that I suck at this,?” Roman grumbled.

“You don’t suck,” Dot said leaning over Roman’s shoulders,” You’re progressing well for such little time,” 

“Um... well it's still dead,”

Dot sighed, “It is,” she said, “Technical ability only get you so far, especially with the dead--and they’ll only get more uncooperative if we place it in a vessel it’s unfamiliar with,”

“So how do I make it cooperative?”

“Convince it that this new life will be worth living,” Dot said as if that was easy, “It's fairly similar to how you grow plants, only more complicated, so the energy you’re putting in will affect the outcome,”

“Dot I really hope you aren’t fucking suggesting I think good thoughts to revive a corpse cause that’s pretty fucking hard to do when my family’s being threatened,” 

“It would speed up the process,” Dot shrugged, “And you’ve done it before,” 

“But before I at least had J- Deceit--” Roman snapped.

Dot didn’t say anything to that, her stare far too heavy so Roman fixated on the corpse in front of him, pushing himself to try again--at least the failure would distract him. The corpse crumpled into ash in front of him and Roman felt his irritation spike--hating himself even more when he instinctively looked up for Dot’s commentary. 

The only thing was that when he looked up Dot wasn’t there, and then she was, drifting back into the room as if she never left, a single key hanging from her fingers. 

She tilted her head, staring at him expectantly before turning on her heel. 

Roman scrambled to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i really did plan to get these chapters out earlier this month but nnnn senior year exists so enjoy!!


	30. The Last Supper (III)

A door creaked open, a lone streak of light filtering inside. He could hear laughing, the low rumbling of a man almost swallowing the tentative murmurs of his mom. She shut the door behind her, body shaking as she leaned back against the door, a prayer faint on her lips as the man’s voice thankfully went away. 

He saw her skin rippling, translucent scales stark against her black hair, erasing the bruises and discoloration until she was only left with a smooth expanse of brown skin. 

His mom’s forehead creased, yellow eyes flickering in the darkness, “Janus?” she said his name hesitant as if at any moment the family would hear, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Janus perked up at his name, “I wasn’t sleepy,” he lied. 

His mom settled down in the bed next to him, legs propped against the wall as she attempted to squeeze into the small cot, “You will be this morning,” she said, “You have church remember--You’ll have to wake up soon enough,” 

Janus made a low, throaty sound in protest, “I don’t wanna go,”

“Why not?” His mom murmured, hands threading through his hair. 

“They won’t let you go,” Janus scowled.

“Don’t be so grumpy,” She prodded at his face,“You should go,” 

Janus’s face twisted even more at that, “I don’t want to go anywhere you can’t go,” 

“You should go because I can’t go,” She said. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” 

“It doesn’t need to,” She sighed, “I know you like seeing your friends, so you should go,”

“But I don’t need t--”

“Janus, I want you to be happy, ” She said, “Don’t worry about me or those nasty villagers, okay? It's not your job,”

“But momma-”

“Go to sleep love,” His mom pressed a kiss to his forehead, tugging the blanket back over his shoulders, “I’ll wake you up before I leave,” 

\---

Janus wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep, he slipped in and out of consciousness, vague flickerings of past faces melding with the shadows of the walls. He knew he was some level of fucked up because he could hear someone saying his name--his real name and he knows the last people who said his name are dead or wanted him dead so--

“Janus?”

Waking was as if he emerged from drowning, the damp air somehow too sharp for his lungs, the vivid picture of Roman melding into his sight all at once with their wild smile and ethereal presence- a cruel mind trick he’s sure. But the cruel trick’s vividness muted into something softer, and all at once the vivid red became auburn and the tight, concern etched onto the angel’s face became all too real. 

Janus locked eyes with them and Roman’s face brightened, face pressed against the bars of the makeshift cage, his presence buzzing about the confined space as if at any moment he could wave his hand and it could all go away, leaving only the two of them. 

“Roman” Janus attempted, but his throat was mangled, the name an intelligible mess that he couldn’t quite seem to pronounce. It felt like a prayer on his lips all the same. 

Roman’s smile dimmed again, eyes flickering to the chains, “How long have you been like this...” he murmured, but before Janus could muster the strength to answer they turned their head sharply, “How long has he been like this?” Roman demanded, eyes locked on someone just out of sight. 

Dot appeared like a shadow behind him, eyes carefully avoiding Janus and Roman, “Human time doesn’t apply down here--” she carefully explained, “So physically about a week, but to him it might feel like--well...an eternity,” 

“I’ll kill him,” Roman muttered darkly.

“You can’t, I’ve tried,” Dot sighed, “ So if we’re done here--”

“Wait-wait wait, what we just got here!”

Dot’s eyes flickered dangerously, “Keep your voice down,” she gritted, glancing about warily, “I’ll never hear the end of it if he finds out I brought you down here before it's time--”

“You’ll never hear the end of it from me if you don’t at least let me talk to him,” Roman complained, unphased as Dot held his stare, “If you want to be in my life so fucking badly after this at least let me talk to him a little while longer,”

“But…”

Roman didn’t budge, glare softer, “Please?”

Dot closed her eyes, “Make it quick,” she relented, turning on her heel and disappearing out of site once again. 

With her gone, Roman deflated, “Darling?” he said tentatively, fingers wrapping around the bars tight, “Wha...What has he done to you?”

Janus somehow found a voice, “I did it to myself,”

Roman’s brow furrowed, “Really? Cause I think you would’ve mentioned that you were into bondage by now--”

Janus, strung up like meat and distinctly smelling of a disgusting combination of acid and puke somehow found the energy to be even more tired, “Jokes, really?

“Well what else do you want me to say?” Roman said, “Because I want to be serious but you’re avoiding the question--What did he do to you,” 

“It doesn’t matter, “Janus stressed, “This is my deal--these are my problems--”

“Janus just because you agreed to it doesn’t mean he isn’t taking advantage of you--” Roman said, “You were in a shitty situation--we were all in shitty situations and he came in knowing that we couldn’t say no,”

Janus opened his mouth, his protests falling short, “W… Why do you even care,” is what he finally said, “I lied to you-- I left you, I didn’t…” I didn’t choose you, said the voice not quite his own, “ Shouldn’t you be mad right now?”

“Why would I be mad at you now,” Roman sighed looking increasingly upset, “My attachment issues a fuckin’ side this isn’t the time for that. You’re hurt, I want to help, please just talk to me,” 

“I… 20 to 30 vials,” Janus finally muttered, “I’m not quite sure how many a day, but it's… a lot. He’s trying to build up my tolerance and keep agitating my natural magic,” 

Roman bit his lip, “How… long has he been giving you the vials?”

“A..while,” Janus admitted, not missing how Roman’s face fell, “I can handle them for the most part, but I guess it leaves me mentally...vacant--easily suggestible,” he blinked hard, “It's hard to stay present and with so many Misrae around…” 

Roman’s expression narrowed thoughtfully, “He’s making you the vessel,” he said, “After all the Goddess's physical form would be practically ash by now, but if he can channel it into a new body successfully…” they trailed off, “Darling we’re going to have to buy some time to get you out of here, ” 

“Do you have any ideas?”

“A few…” Roman admitted vaguely, giving Janus a once over, “But I’m going to need you stay strong for a little while longer and well...lie your ass off--”

A dark humor colored Janus as he listened closely to their directions.

\---

It was an occurrence that most of the Misrae noticed, however, Elliot was the only one to bring it up to The Stranger. It wasn’t like the others were afraid of The Stranger, it was more-so that they wanted nothing to do with him. The man was already incredibly unlikeable, but his association with The Council was a threat to their existence that they were more than aware of. 

“What do you mean there’s nothing there,” The Stranger signed, his sharp gestures just barely outlined by his phones obnoxious flashlight. 

Elliot winced, signing, ‘De- The vessel’s still there. But..’ They wrung their hands together contemplatively, trying to find the words, ‘His magic’s gone, sir,’

“Don’t call me sir--” The Stranger dropped his hands to his side, shaking his head, “Magic doesn’t disappear,” was what he finally signed, picking up his phone, “That’s fucking ridiculous,” he muttered, leaving the room with a purposeful stride.

“Of course,” Elliot nodded, physically restraining themself from tacking on a sir. They fluttered after the Stranger, immensely grateful that they couldn’t hear The Stranger as they threw open the makeshift prison door, face red and clearly pissed off.

Deceit didn’t look exactly phased by this, then again Elliot would be surprised if they could feel anything at this point with how fried their mind must be right now. After a certain point, The Stranger must have realized that their ranting was fruitless and they stormed out, only then did Elliot see Deceit visibly slacken. 

Elliot dropped to the ground normal-sized, entering the room with a cautionary glance back, ‘Deceit?’ they signed. 

Deceit’s vacant expression flickered, in recognition, but he didn't immediately respond. At that moment Elliot remembered their hands bounded above their head, still streaked with dried blood and the unmistakable burn of magic, but Deceit’s limp hand eventually signed, “Yes?”

“What did you…” Elliot wished they could avert their gaze, “What did you do?”

At that Deceit smiled and it didn’t reassure Elliot, nor did it alarm them. Deceit’s grin seemed less jagged, and his slitted eyes seemed less yellow and more green. The skin on the left side of his face didn’t gleam with scales, but instead had stretching scars and leveled reddened skin.

Elliot knew logically that magic didn’t just disappear, but in that moment he genuinely considered that maybe, just maybe, Deceit had become fully human after all.

\---

The Stranger would not be made into the fool again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm ye going to school in a pandemic is highkey stressful, but i'll try and write the finale/epilogue when i can. Stiilllll if i just disappear whoops??? I hope you enjoyed and stay safe!!!


	31. The Last Ending (i)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual most violence is off screen, but there is a scene where the magical equivalent of assault is threatened, so heads up.

A story begins separately, each person in their own bubble, their own path. So when these paths finally do meet, they collide, and it is just as disastrous as expected. 

Dot; The Favorite. 

She was separated from the Aleseners with no way home and the threat of the council hanging over her. The Old Man found her first and instead of becoming a specimen, she became the daughter he never had--and he became the dad she could never stay with. The Old man had given everything up for her and... she still left. 

Emile; The Kiss-Ass. 

He was assigned to be the Old Man’s apprentice as soon as he was born and was raised with a calculated warmth. The Old Man understood Emile's purpose was not only as his student but as the council’s informant and his eventual replacement. 

And finally, The Stranger; The Fuck Up. 

Found who knows where doing who knows what with an affinity towards crude, trickers magic, despite the overwhelming amount of humanity pumping through his veins. His appearance was neither pleasant nor planned, but that Old Man did work hard and The Stranger did attempt to not be a hardass. For awhile their charade worked and they were almost like a family. But this family lived a long time and sometimes, trying isn’t enough. 

. The Favorite went away to be with their real family, The Kiss-ass continued their path to the top, and The Fuck up was left behind. 

The Stranger wasn’t surprised when he was inevitably left to his own devices. He was considered too cruel, too human, too much to handle, yet too good to let go. But with no family, nor purpose, no pieces to put together, The Stranger had realized despite all the excuses given to him, he was really nothing. 

\---

Roman woke up with the unpleasant sensation of hands wrapped around his throat and opened his eyes to The Stranger . Hands wrapped around Roman’s throat. The action itself wasn’t particularly alarming seeing as Roman didn’t have lungs in the human sense of the word, but the audacity of it all was enough for him to see red. 

The Stranger leaned in, teeth bared to reveal all the broken bits of candy and plaque, “What did you do,” he growled, and Roman writhed--knowing that his skin must’ve been blistering under The Stranger’s palm--yet The Stranger did not seem phased, eyes only narrowing. 

“I didn’t do shit,” Roman said pleasantly, in fact he may have said it with a smile, because the grip on his throat only seemed to tighten. 

“Sanders,” The Stranger’s voice warned, “I swear if yo--”

“What do you think you’re doing,” Dot hissed standing at the door and The Stranger flinched at the unmistakable accusation, “You promised,” 

The Stranger ignored Roman’s smug look , “We were talking,”

Dot’s flat look only became flatter, “I’m aware that humans experience moment’s of rashness,” her words rolled thick with her accent, just barely slipping into her native tongue, “But that is crude and entirely counter-productive,” she pulled him into the makeshift hallway, shutting the door behind them. 

The Stranger sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair, “He’s trying to sabotage me,” he scowled, “And it isn’t like it can kill him,”

Dot crossed her arms, “You need his voice for the spell to have any effect at all--”

The Stranger’s frown deepened, “I’m aware, he’s just--”

“He’s trying to get under your skin, ignore it,”

“That’s easy for you to say,” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Stranger shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark, trench coat, “You don’t have any emotions, you don’t care,” he pulled a lollipop from his pocket, popping it into his mouth, “You get everything and you’re indifferent to it, “

Dot opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, “Are you still not over it?”

“I am over it,” The Stranger gritted, “It’s just-just,” he bit down on the lollipop hard, the sudden crunch of sour overpowering the ever festering emotions, “Forget it,”

“No I won’t,” She stepped in front of him, blocking his escape, “What is this about? You’re making stupid mistakes and you don’t just make stupid mistakes, you self destruct. ”

“It doesn’t matter, but...I need this Dot,” The Stranger admitted, feeling no relief from the thick pressure tight around his heart and winding about my lungs, “I‘ve never been this close to getting anything--I don’t get picked and you know this and that fucking Sanders--” he spat the lolipop stick, “He’s ruining everything. I don’t know what he told that piece of shit shifter, but--”

“Hey…” Dot’s wings wrapped about The Stranger’s waist, “Find a different way,” she suggested softly,” “I know it's harder and I know you want this power, but... try? It might be harder, but I just want to see you happy again,”

The Stranger’s expression was a grim acceptance, “And I…” he shook his head, “I’m sure you’ll see the Old Man soon, too,” 

At that Dot’s indifferent expression brightened, as if she was almost human. And in that moment The Stranger felt at peace with his lie, he felt no vitriol to reveal the Old Man’s death nor any guilt. 

He felt content that eventually she’d feel his pain. He was assured that eventually everyone would feel his pain and then with a wave of his hand it would all be gone. 

Everything would be destroyed and at last be at peace. 

\---

Roman was not-too subtly eavesdropping when the Stranger bust back inside. Roman made some attempt to look busy studying the ancient text in front of him, but The Stranger didn’t look convinced--nor did he look irritated. 

Roman gripped his hand tight, forcing it not to fidget as he watched the man calmly close the door behind him, pulling down their sunglasses, “You need to get changed,” The Stranger said, unceremoniously pulling a long white robe from thin air and tossing it at Roman,“Change.” 

“Or wh--” Whatever snide comment died on Roman’s lips as he handled the borderline sheer fabric, “What...but what about my…”

“Is there a problem Sanders?”

Roman’s fingers clutched the fabric tight, “You can’t be serious,”

“You don’t have a choice, remember?” The Stranger hummed. 

“I…” Roman balled his hands into fist, “Fine,”

\---

Janus knew the Stranger entered the room without even hearing him arrive. 

It was a second sense in a way--the ability to just understand when you had fucked up by the slightest twitch of a frown or change in the air. To survive you needed to recognize these changes quickly and hope to god that if you couldn’t run fast enough, you could grovel. 

Janus stayed silent instead. Roman’s plan, Roman’s easy words slipping over his skin and soothing his aches and quieting cries. He just had to lie his ass off.

He had to buy time. 

“Deceit,” The Stranger hissed, words slapping Janus across the face, “Look at me I talk to you,” he said, hand jerking Janus’s face up, unphased when it slammed against the wall, “It's time for your lessons,” 

“What...lessons?”Janus blinked back the tears welling in his eyes, letting the pain wash away--it was happening to someone else--he was somewhere else. 

The Stranger didn’t seem to hear him, “You’re familiar with a decent range of creatures, however, you do need more practice handling more…” He turned, making a hand motion and Janus’s heart dropped, “Advanced magic folk,”

Janus didn’t know how he spoke, but he did, “I…” his voice was cracked, barely audible, but suddenly Janus felt incredibly present and presently wanted his hand around the Stranger’s throat, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” 

“You’re lesson of course,” The Stranger’s grip on Roman’s wrist tightened, yanking them to his side, “You want to make-believe human, fine, we’ll just have to...jump start your magic again,” He said, catching Roman’s chin and forcing them to look at them, “And the best way to do that--other than a watchdog, is a Sanders. Isn’t that right, Roman,”

Roman’s face stayed pinch tight, tears welling in the corners of their eyes but never spilling. The Stranger made a face letting Roman go and pushing them onto a stool. 

Roman stumbled, not looking up, not looking at The Stranger, not even looking at Janus, as they pulled the near, sheer robe tighter around them. 

Perfectly aware of Roman’s distress, The Stranger continued unphased, “As you probably gathered, Sanders, particularly the Sanders family are well known not only for their manipulation,” The Stranger said, smiling brighter when Roman recoiled at the word, “But for their sensitivity as well. They’re notoriously strict about their modesty and restricting all outside contact. Some think it’s purely ceremonial, but according the legend, their human skins were a gift from the goddesses and their true forms can be overwhelmed by something as simple as sunlight --”

“The point,” Janus spat. 

The Stranger froze at that, unnatural smile not wavering as he clamped down on Roman’s shoulder, “The point is you useless shit, is that they weren’t built for this world. His skin, this body it's all a fragile, perfect, facade so he won’t scare off humans ,” he said, pulling the fabric past Roman’s shoulder, revealing the dark swirls and freckles.

“Stop it…” Roman whimpered, curling into himself. 

The Stranger ignored him, “Whatever you’ve learned about this form, is useless and will not bring us any closer to cultivating a vessel for Salvation,” he dragged a finger along Roman’s neck, nail’s looking sharper than usual, “Thankfully, the curse is a fantastic little tool because it brings up everything pure and true, burying that pesky humanity and leaving them as what they are intended to be. Vessels for magic. Sadly... I don’t have access to that curse. But I’ve whipped up something a bit more experimental...even if it is possibly more painful, permanent even.” he said wistfully, digging into their shoulders, not leaving a bruise or a bump, but--

Roman jerked away, shaking, and Janus saw the freckles and swirls be brightened, no longer an earth rich brown, but becoming dustier. As if white flakes were coating Roman’s shoulder’s with each tear that slipped down his face. 

“Stop, stop, stop it,” Roman sniffed as The Stranger’s little finger trailed the curse around his neck and down his spine, closer and closer to--god Roman’s wings--

Dece-Janus doesn’t know what sound he made, but The Stranger stopped the bastard's smile dropping into cold satisfaction at the sight of his vessel. The Stranger pulled back his hand and Roman curled into himself all at once, sobs wracking his entire body. The Stranger nodded, “The ceremony begins at midnight,” he said, leaving the room with a skip in his step. 

Janus had saved Roman from being taken from him again. Deceit had failed Roman, failed the plan, and might never see them again after today.

He didn’t need a mirror to know the ugly look he had adopted, he could feel all remnants of humanity leave him as nothing but this...thing.

A monster. 

Fingers thickened, nails more like talons, scales jutting like crystalized feathers from his skin, and his body elongated stretched out, his legs indiscernible from one another. And his face...he didn’t even want to think about it. 

He didn’t. 

Yet with the room's silence, heavy with the goddesses' presence, heavy with everything he tried to be but couldn’t he jus…

Roman’s crying quieted into sniffles after a while. Janus doesn’t know how long a while was, it could’ve been minutes after The Stranger left, it could’ve been hours. 

All that mattered was that when Roman sat up, wiping away his tears, he smiled. 

As if seeing Janus alive was enough for now. 

\----

The Stranger could feel Dot’s glare when he entered the room, “Ceremony begins at midnight--” he said, pulling on gloves and unlatching a crate, “I’ll need you to run a few short errands after you teach Roman the song,” 

“What did you do?” Dot said.

“What needed to be done of course,” The Stranger shrugged, carefully picking up the pages of the ancient text from the crate and placing it on the table, “Not a hair on his head was harmed and the vessel is back of track,”

“Why are you lying,” Dot hissed, “I could hear him crying, we could all hear him crying,” It wasn’t even literal. It was a throbbing panic that seemed to shake the entire tomb at once. The Misrae were practically thrown into a frenzy and Dot--

“We?” The Stranger echoed, face furrowing, “Oh yeah, forgot about his attention seeking quality, huh. That might be a problem.” he said, closing the crate, and pulling the gloves off with a snap, “Can’t have any other creatures waking up before the ceremony or worst--alert The Council to his whereabouts…” 

“You’re missing the point,” Dot’s wings seem to get bigger, “Whatever you did--you could’ve traumatized him--”

“Oh so now you’re worried about our little prince being traumatized?” The Stranger sneered, “Honestly pick a side a this point,”

“What--” Dot inhaled, “I did pick a side, I’m here to support you it's just--”

“It's just what?” The Stranger said, sing a song, “Am I no longer interesting to you?”

“I…” Dot folded her arms, “I’m doing this as a favor to the Old Man--I doing it to protect you,” she said, ignoring The Stranger’s scoff, “You’ve been alone for too long and I’m making the choice to care about you even after all the shit you’ve done. You deserve at least that. So please respect the fact that I still have boundaries,” 

“As flimsy as your so-called boundaries are,” The Stranger hummed, “I’m glad you’re caring, Dot. I do deserve a lot don’t I,” He said, the amusement in his face fading as he scanned the papers, “And in the spirit of friendship and caring--or whatever, you’ll be doing a little task for me. For security purposes of course,”

“What task,” Dot said, feeling a piece of her drain from her body.

“Just stop by the Sander’s house and keep an eye on my apprentices and the family,” The Stranger said, picking his teeth, “Just in case Roman tries something stupid, I’ll be able to...handle that situation quickly,”

“Of course,”

“And just so you know, Elliot will be going with you--just in case you try something stupid as well,” The Stranger added, Elliot fluttering in and landing on Dot’s shoulder.

If Elliot felt her building rage, they didn’t mention it. And when Dot left the tomb, and when Dot left the forest, Elliot didn’t mention when Dot made a phone call or two.


	32. The Last Ending (ii)

Roman picked himself up slowly, feeling those ghostly fingers dig into his skin, dragging closer and closer to his-- He swallowed thick, shaking off that train of thought. It wasn’t that bad. The only proof of what had happened was the loss of sensation around his shoulders. It was a minor blessing that he couldn’t see it. Somehow he knew The Stranger wasn’t lying when he said it was permanent, but for now Roman needed to believe that it wasn’t.

He walked towards Janus, feeling something close to relief as he slid against the wall next to them tucked underneath their still chained hands. 

“Are you…” Janus asked, craning his head to better see Roman. 

“I’m fine,” Roman mumbled, pressing his face into their side, hands just barely tracing the now healed wounds. Janus managed something comparable to a snort and Roman forced a laugh, wincing at how brittle his voice sounded, “Like you're one to talk,”

“How are you really?”

“I’m fine as this shit can be,” Roman snapped, still trying to will those fingers away from his mind with Janus’s terrible, disgusting, but wonderfully safe stench,” We can still figure a way out of here, especially since that dumbass left us in here alone so we should get you out of those chains first and formos--”

“Roman,”

“What--I’m fine Janus, he didn’t put that curse on me, I’m fine,”

“He touched you.”

“I…” Roman swallowed, “It wasn’t a big deal, you heard him--Sanders are just sensitive--”

“Yes, I know --He tried to touch your wings Roman,” 

“He does shitty things, but... some shitty things are worse than others I--” Even though Janus couldn’t see their face he could hear their pain, “He’s trying to wipe out everything I think almost getting a---” Roman stuttered on the word. He couldn’t even say it. It would be too real if he did. 

“We need to get you out of those chains,” Roman finally mumbled, reaching for the metal, “--and a plan--I don’t even know how close midnight is what if--”

“We’re not going to do anything,” Janus said.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not going to try to escape,” Janus said more resolutely, shaking his hair out of his eyes to meet Roman’s gaze squarely. 

“You’re not suggesting we give up,” Roman hissed, “I’m not letting you die and I’m certainly not letting that facist fucking weirdo--”

“Roman,” Janus said and Roman quieted, “I’m not saying that I’m just...Right now we can’t do anything,” 

“But right now is all we have,” 

“I know but…” Janus knew time was a luxury, but right now he felt like the time to rest was a necessity, “I’ll think of something, I promise. But right now I don’t think either of us are in a good enough state to do anything that won’t get us killed,” 

“But…” Roman’s forehead pressed against Janus’s, defeated as his hands cradling their cheek, “I don’t like this,”

“Please... do whatever he says tomorrow,” Janus mumbled, letting their breathes sync with his, “I’m not planning on dying, but I need to make sure you get out--just in case it does go to shit,” 

Roman sighed, lips pressing lightly against their cheek, “You’re an asshole,” he said, against their skin, “You’re a self-sacrificial asshole and if you think I’ll just leave you,”

“It's not leaving, it's not being distracting,” Janus retorted, “He knows he can use you to get me to do what he wants,” 

“Am I...” Roman’s face flitted between pleased and distressed, “Do I distract you that much?” Definitely pleased. 

Janus didn’t answer that, knowing that it was the closest thing to agreement he’d get from Roman. Instead, Janus twisted his face quick, meeting Roman’s lips. Janus ignored his sore body as Roman braced himself against his chest, the gold scales pliable under their warmth. Roman’s hand had slipped from Janus’ hair to cradle his face, not quite touching the scales there. And Janus realized that he didn’t care anymore if they did. 

It was one of many desperate, tired kisses. 

\---

It was Larry who had entered the cell to take off Deceit’s chains.

His cheerful demeanor dampened as he unwinded the blood soaked, metal cuffs from around Janus’s wrists, only murmuring apologies when patting the wounds down with alcohol and tightly wrapping them. 

When Larry was finally done, Janus sagged all at once, only being caught by Larry’s steady hands. Janus wasn’t sure if he was just unused to his tail or if his body forgot how to sit upright all together. Larry had only left to let Roman change into some actual clothes, but quickly materialized to lead them to the ceremony. 

The tomb was silent, it always was silent, but Janus could feel the Misrae’s presences’ pushing against his mind. Some were curious, some seem frantic, some seemed…. tired. As if they’ve seen this before and know that nothing would stop the Stranger from attempting it again. 

Janus distantly wondered about all the shifters who’ve walked down this hall before.

Some who looked and spoke like him with strange accents and jagged scales, some who forgo language completely--embraced their anonymity and lose themselves to the shadows, those with feathers that glittered in the sun and voices that always seemed familiar. Theshifters who’ve never left their family, the shifters who had no choice but to leave, so they could survive. 

Were they scared? Did they fight or did they take one look at all the promises laid out before them and simply submitted themselves?

Was it the best alternative? Was it the only alternative? Did they feel that rising dread towards the future that only seemed to quiet with a few simple, distant promises, “it’ll all be over, it'll all be gone, you will not suffer, you will grow beyond suffering, you will be more,” 

Janus wasn’t sure exactly when this promise of eternal peace, of unfathomable power, became so menacing. He didn’t know when that outstretched hand stretched into claws. 

He had been so afraid of becoming a monster that he became willing prey. 

Larry had led the two of them down the winding halls of the tomb until the path widened and they reached a gaping cave. Snatches of light seemed to filter from the rocks, making each drop of water glisten, and the muddied path before them shine of clean marble. 

“You’re late,” The Stranger said, not looking up as he scanned through some papers. 

Janus squinted in the light, a sharp pain encroaching behind his eyes. He tried not to stumble when Larry let go of him. Uneasily, Janus slithered forward towards the center of the room, feeling Roman close by. 

The Stranger took a step back, revealing the strange sight behind him. 

The rock at the center of the tomb was rubble and twisted amongst it was a single tree. A tree of paling grey that seemed to shine just as much as it waned. The weight of it’s branch thich with thin leaves and dotting, white fruit. 

Roman froze, dropping to his knees at once. 

At that The Stranger smiled, “So the Sanders does have manners,” he mused, looking up from the papers, “Don’t worry hun it takes a bit getting used to,” 

“What’s…?” Janus frowned, glancing down. 

Roman caught his eye and gave a grimace, “You don’t feel it?” he said and Janus recognized the tone. It was the tone Roman used when he didn’t want to make assumptions, but was pretty sure he was right. It was the tone Roman used when Janus fascinated him, it was the tone Roman used when Janus concerned him in all the ways that were good. 

“Of course he doesn’t,” The Stranger rolled his eyes, “Did you even listen to a word of my plan you im--”

“Yeah, yeah genocide, I got it,” Roman bit back, head still down, hands flat on the ground beside his thigh. 

The Stranger’s cool smile seemed to have frozen, the page tight in his hand, “Genoicde is such a human word--”

The cave splintered under Roman’s hands, “Last time I checked, you are human you di-”

“Roman,” Janus pleaded, and Roman fell silent. 

“Well, well, well,” The Stranger asked, amused, “You've trained him. I’m almost impressed,”

Janus schooled his expression, forcing himself to look away from Roman, “He respects my decision,” he said evenly. 

“So he does,” The Stranger muttered, quickly becoming disinterested. He picked out a page out of the stack of papers, letting the rest fall useless to the ground as he shoved the page in Roman’s face, “Sing,” he said. 

Roman raised his head as if it laboured him, curls falling painstakingly slow to the side, and his hand trembling as he grasped the page between his fingertips.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

“Sing,” The Stranger snapped. 

And Roman did, clumsily, in a broken mismatch of spanish that seemed to cause trembling to move up to their shoulders.

The Stranger only grew more impatient, “In. English.”

Roman whimpered and Janus could imagine how their chest shuddered trying to keep it all in, trying to keep the tightness in his throat locked away, hoping the tears laid dormant in his eyes. How their eyes would cloud and their skin would burn in protest. 

Janus forced himself to stay still. He had to betray Roman once more, he had to turn away only once more. If he did turn around, if he did turn to them, he knew he’d get desperate to make Roman okay again. But if he got desperate then it wasn’t guaranteed they’d both be okay together. 

“Roman,” Janus spoke, words thick on his tongue, “Please sing,”

Roman cursed and while the silence that followed was thick with The Stranger's agitation, soon enough Roman’s sniffles quieted.

Roman took a breath.

And sang. 

\---

A Sander’s song was a lullaby, it was a wake-up call, it was the cold distance between stars and the lights that promised you a home.

It said look up, come here, I am waiting for you.

I miss you.

Follow me--take my hand, stay a little while longer, kiss me a little harder. 

Let my warmth hold you until you are well rested again. 

The lullaby tamed the tomb’s thunderous presence, all the prying minds of the Misrae now gone, even the Stranger looked a little lost. 

In this thoughtful daze, the silver tree unfurled. 

It’s lanky branches didn’t shoot up, instead the branches to the ground, an intricate pattern that covered the walls and floor. Most of its silver fruit now shriveled and dusty. 

Only one dripping fruit remained, it's molten red calling. 

Janus slithered across the tangle of branches, Roman’s voice a distant hum that seemed to circle his neck and bind his throat. As if saying “I am here, I will keep you a float” 

Janus plucked the fruit, crushing it in his hands and letting the red drip freely as he raised it above his head and opened his mouth for a taste.


	33. The Last Ending (iii)

Janus was drowning. 

He was drowning in the morning caresses of his mother coming in from a late night of work. He was drowning in the jeers, the shouts, in the lustful looks as he marched her coffin into the woods, hoping that no one would follow him. 

He was drowning in envy seeing someone who looked like him, with tanned skin and light eyes, who was loved and cared by the entire village just because their mom was white. He was drowning in blood, in anger, in layer after layer of lies. 

So when he broke the surface and inhaled his first breath of air, it was intoxicating. He let the red fill his vision, feeling something greater then himself curl about his figure, asking him questions he didn’t know the answer to, telling him secrets he would never understand. 

The Goddesses felt like everything good. And he let it seep into him, he felt them fill in the empty patches of himself and push air into every crevice of himself until he was light. The tangle of his heartache loosened, and become uncomplicated and unneeded. Memories of his mother’s grave were swept away. He felt his mother’s face fade away piece by piece. He saw the village's scowls whiten, so bright, so happy and unfeeling, not quite sure what was missing. 

He heard singing somewhere as he swam farther away from the water’s surface into the burning embrace of the Goddesses. He felt caresses that no longer stung, but the hands were foreign and strange against his hair. He heard singing somewhere and felt nothing. He embodied everything, he became all things and could create all things, and yet the warmth seemed to be a blanket of indifference. 

He felt his scales smooth away blank, and his form melt into something indistinguishable, knowing that he at that moment would become nothing. 

Janus plunged his head beneath the river’s surface, taking that snatch of air and swimming deeper. He felt the smoothness wilt away to jagged scales and scarred skin, his teeth sharpened, and eyes became slitted, with a dangerous glow. He felt the pain of loss, of jealousy, the fear of losing love.

Those memories prickled against his skin as he swam deeper and soon enough he remembered the sunday morning games by the river, before games became deadly. He remembered making faces behind the priest's back. He remembered warm loaves of bread and kisses that tasted of ripe berries. He remembered hands that stroked his hair and how it was so loving and so painful--

The further he swam away from the Goddess, the more his body twisted. The dread pooling into his stomach and the anger holding his heart tight, defensive and ready to strike. 

He kept swimming and he could hear singing from here. He kept swimming, even when everything disgusting, everything he hated seemed to bubble up and swallow him whole because he knew everything wonderful and everything loving would come back eventually. He could hear Roman singing from here. He could hear someone else sing along. 

Janus decided he would be okay. 

He let the disgusting magic circle him. It crackled under his skin, an electric fire in his heart that caused Roman’s song to fade. 

He heard a cackle erupt from deep within himself. 

Janus would be okay. 

\---

The Stranger snapped out of his daze, immediately zeroing in on the vessel. Deceit stood, formless, on two legs in front of The Tree. Unmoving even as the branches retreated back to the tree, snaking across their feet and shriveling black.

It would be another century before that tree grew back. 

The Stranger wouldn't’ be able to tell if it worked or not until Deceit took a shape. The fact that they didn’t immediately combust was a good sign, but there is a good chance that he couldn’t reach the goddesses in time for the transfer--and at that point even their body would become useless. He saw Deceit slowly take shape, broad shoulders losing muscle, scales smoothing away to deep brown skin. When their hair grew into bouncing, scarlet curls, The Stranger recognized what was happening, and apparently so did Roman.

Roman stood, now unaffected, a mirth coloring his face  
.

“What did you do,” The Stranger’s eyes narrowed, as he already thumbed at his phone for Dot to carry out with their mission.

“I sang for you,” Roman said, eyes still light with amusement, “And I woke up the goddesses,” he continued, “He must have found someone else to bring back,”

“But you’re right here,” The Stranger said, really, really not enjoying where this is going, “That tree connects to where all magic folk goes when they die, there’s no way he could take on your form from that,”

“That,” Roman’s shoulders shook, their smile wild,, “That isn’t me,” he said.

Deceit turned and The Stranger at first didn’t understand what Roman meant. They were a perfect replica of Roman, from the freckles to the eyes. But then he understood. From a white streaked curl, to the mustache that framed a pointed smile. 

That was definitely a Sanders and it had to be a second born--

Deceit eyes settled cruelly on The Stranger, two pairs of horned wings flaring behind. 

That wasn’t Roman.

That was Remus. 

The Stranger lunged for Roman, the curse crackling in his hand, but clawed hands snatched him--pulling him into the air. Remus’s wings were deafening, the air a tunnel that made Roman’s shouting below seem faint. The Stranger felt his air being choked, but he didn’t need air, he was immortal and not even demigods could change that. 

The Stranger managed a wheezed laugh, “You idiot,” he felt Remus’s second pair of arms unfurl from their spine and wrap tight around their throat, “You’re made of the same shit he is,” he spat, letting the curse spread, a white bile erupting from his throat and racing up Remus’s arms.

If only he could see Roman’s face. It was what The Stranger deserved after all this bullshit, to see that pathetic prince’s face when he realized that it wouldn’t work out for him. To see that he was just as unlovable as the rest of the world. 

“You’re wrong,” Remus said, his voice splintering through the air--somehow both shrill and booming, “You see my brother and I are very different people,” he said, his flesh bubbling and blistering, he tightened his grip, “Ask me how,” he said, sing song. 

“How-” The Stranger blurted, words no longer his own. 

“ You see, Roman is so in love with living, even when his body breaks down, even when they tell him it won’t be long or that he will never be strong, he loves living and life loves him,” Remus said, a thoughtful look overcoming him, as he pulled his face away from the Stranger to take one more look at Roman’s shrinking form below, “I however,” he yanked the Stranger back up to face him, “I’m already dead. I could care less if I die again,” he laughed, “And I certainly don’t care who I have to bring with me. “

At that, Remus’s face splintered open.

Deceit was still asleep as Remus's magic left him. It's putrid green, still partially corrupted with the curse as it lunged for The Stranger’s face. 

Everything went white.

The Stranger was finally at peace.


	34. Beyond the Sunrise

Janus woke up sore, but rested in a field, feeling Roman’s hands cart through his hair. They were still singing, the lullaby only fading when Janus sat up. 

“You’re awake,” Roman smiled as he leaned against Janus’s shoulder. 

“I came back,” Janus pointed out, still surprised himself. He breathed in and out, cherishing the way his lungs filled even if he could still feel his heart ache. 

That would...take some getting used to, but…

He wrapped an arm around Roman’s waist, pressing a kiss to their hair, “Did you bring me out here yourself?” he mumbled, vaguely recognizing the trees. 

‘No…” Roman said, slightly frowning, “Larry did, he didn’t want The Council to find us when they arrived to collect The Stranger,”

Janus raised an eyebrow, “Larry called The Council?”

Roman’s gaze fell, his hands twisting, “No...Dot did,” 

“Oh,” Janus blinked, “We should thank her, I guess…”

“They took her too,” Roman said voice cracking, “She reported all of them...The Stranger, Larry, and herself. The Council arrested all of them,”

“Roman…”

“She said she deserved it, she….” Roman’s face crumpled and Janus pulled them into his chest, rocking him softly,” She fucked me over. She does deserve it. Is it fucked up that I still miss her…?

Janus had a feeling Roman was talking about more than just Dot, but he let them cry it out. He cried a bit too. Something else he had to get used to, he guessed. But they didn’t cry the entire time, slowly but surely they asked each other other questions, trying to sort out what had happened. 

“Did Elliot get out?” Janus finally asked. 

“They…” Roman frowned, “They came back with Dot, but when The Council arrived the tomb was gone. All the Misrae were gone,” 

Janus nodded, “That’s probably for the best,” he said, shuddering to think if The Council ever did find the tomb. To find all those undocumented Misrae. He wondered about all the other undocumented magic folk living in the shadows of a world they helped create.

Roman poked his face, “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Janus said.

“Nothing,” Roman echoed, nose scrunched in disbelief, “What is it? What do you want?” he whined. 

Janus knew what he wanted. He thought about how The Stranger’s contact list and various phones were still probably somewhere at Ms. Sander’s house. He thought about how technically, The Council thought he was dead. 

He thought about Lauren and Kai finally having a normal childhood. He thought about doing something to help Ms. Sanders support the house. He thought about helping others and fucking with The Council in the meantime.

He thought about lazy sunday mornings in bed, Roman curled at his side, Roman’s lips on his--- Oh he really thought about that, in fact—

Roman squeaked, surprised as Janus pulled them into his lap,” What?” Janus rested his head on their shoulder, hands wrapping around their waist as he gave them a flat look,, “Oh…” Roman said, suddenly flustered, “Now?”

Janus briefly considered it, “Mmm...Not now,” he said, partly because he was dead tired, partly because he still didn’t know the extent of the damage dealt on the both of them. He closed his eyes breathing everything in again, and again, feeling the steady warmth of Roman, “When everything settles down… we should take a trip,” he finally said, opening his eyes to meet their curious look, “Just the two of us,” 

Roman sighed, wistful, “Some time alone would be nice...” he said, “Where to first?” 

Janus didn’t bother to hide his grin. 

He saw a whole future full of possibilities stretch out in front of him.


End file.
